


Riddle Me This

by awolfnamed_Nyx



Category: Long Exposure (Webcomic)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - No Powers, But he'll still fight you, College Student Jonas Wagner, M/M, Mitch is a teddy bear, Morning After, bouncer! mitch, mechanic! mitch, sort of but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-07 21:29:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14679861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awolfnamed_Nyx/pseuds/awolfnamed_Nyx
Summary: Jonas wakes up one morning in an unfamiliar bed, in a strange apartment owned by an even stranger man, and the rest is simply history.or the Mitjo Club AU that's nothing like you'd expect.





	1. What the heck? Who the heck?

**Author's Note:**

> Everything about this comic is golden, especially the beautiful characterization that I hope I did justice; Mars is amazing for gifting the world with this masterpiece, I swear. I've read so many of the fandom fics on this site and I loved them all so much that I decided to add my own to the mix. I just needed an excuse to write copious amounts of fluff (which this is, don't be mistaken, every bit of their interactions are excruciatingly sweet and I love it). Gonna see if I can keep this fairly short and keep it up (if, by some miracle, I bypass my extraordinary ability to forget to update stuff).
> 
> So, check it out and drop a comment or two!

Jonas wakes up in an unfamiliar bed in only his boxers and an unfamiliar t-shirt (that’s a little snug but extremely comfortable—even if it’s got a few holes). His head aches and his body’s sore, made worse when he moves to stretch. Hold on, his chest feels… funny. When he peels off the shirt and looks down, there are two angry, red bruises circling his upper arms and a third ringed around his chest. They’re tender to the touch; he discovers this when he hisses in pain after poking at one of them. Looks like they’re real and not a trick of the light. That knowledge, coupled with his mysterious surroundings, has his heart drumming fast, loud tempos where it’s lodged in his throat.

There’s sunlight streaming in through the raggedy blinds that burns his eyes and sets his headache aflame. It’s searing but not nearly bad enough to staunch the overwhelming anxiety churning heavily in his gut. He clutches the sheet tightly as another spike of pain shoots through him, bowling him over until he’s leaning over his legs with his eyes shut as tightly as he can manage with the pounding in his head competing with his heart. “What the heck did I do last night,” he wonders aloud in a fearful whisper.

As if summoned by his breach of silence, the door he hadn’t yet noticed creaks open and in peeks a head. Jonas blinks.

The face is long with downturned eyebrows and a sharp lip that seems to be permanently frozen in an angry sneer. Jonas gulps audibly and hopes this guy’ll make it quick, putting Jonas out of his misery. Misery at being stuck in this situation with absolutely no knowledge of how he got into it or, ya know, what the situation even really is. Gosh, his headache might kill him before mystery man even gets to him. Either that or his crippling regret for having gone out the previous night.

When the man spots him, sitting up in the bed with the sheets held closely to his chest, he swings the door open wide and leans in the entryway. “Aw, good, you’re finally up. Come on, I got food and shit in the kitchen. Oh, and the bathroom’s through there if ya gotta, ya know.” He lumbers away—holy smokes, is he tall—and it’s only then that Jonas notices that the guy is only in tank top and loose boxers. Same as Jonas.

Jonas all but runs to that bathroom, ignoring the little roll his stomach gives. With a tight grip on the rickety counter, he tries to hold in a hysterical squeal; the door is still hanging wide open. But he does grip at his disheveled hair despite the spike of pain it earns him. He mutters low, “Who the heck is that?! Oh my god, I didn’t…. Did I? Jonas, what have you done!”

“Hurry it up in there! We got shit to talk about!”

He can’t hold the squeal this time but manages to squeak out a response. “O-okay! Here I come!”

A few minutes searching the bedroom reveals that his pants are lying near the bed, wrinkled but still clean with his wallet still in the pocket. What it doesn’t reveal is his shirt, his shoes, or another exit. So he just hops and shimmies back into the stupidly tight pants Sidney’d coerced him into before they’d left the house last night.

He gasps. The thought of his sister sends pangs of guilt and panic up his spine simultaneously. Where is his phone?! Did the man take it? Has Sid called? Of course she has…. Did the man answer?! Oh, that was not good; that won’t bode well for either of them. He’s in the midst of trying to bite his nails down to nubs when the man speaks from right behind him.

“Food’s gettin’ cold, Joey. Get a move on.” He pauses. “Hey. You okay?”

Jonas ducks under the big hand reaching for his shoulder and zooms from the room without answering. He entertains the thought of running for a moment, but it’s quickly squashed when he remembers that the guy is thin, muscular and, without a doubt, faster than him. That plan is doomed to fail.

The living room and kitchen are really just one big room, separated in the middle by a thin counter near the stove and small table and two chairs on the other side. Oh, wait, would that be the dining room? Heck, it doesn’t matter, Jonas decides. He can smell pancakes and pancakes are a much more important thing to focus on. Pancakes might even make this ‘can’t remember falling in bed with a complete and utter stranger’ thing bearable. Not by a lot, he concedes, but it would certainly help.

The man lopes past him, effectively scaring Jonas out of his skin. He’d forgotten about him for a millisecond. The man points to the table and tells him to sit. He hesitantly agrees and looks around the apartment to keep himself from just staring at the table in terror.

It’s small, that much he can tell. There is only one door other than the apartment’s entrance, and it leads back into the room he’d just left. The living room, if it can even be called that, is dirty—littered with beer bottles, soda cans and junk food wrappers—but the little love seat, cushioned chair and coffee table all look decent. Oh, and there’s a pretty sweet TV setting on a little stand, which proves that the man at least has his priorities straight. Jonas approves, as odd as that is in his current situation.

A plate suddenly sets down in front of him— harder than is strictly necessary, but whatever. Next to it, the man places a glass of water and two little pills that he announces are aspirin. “That there’s my pride and joy,” the man says, having obviously followed Jonas’ gaze. “Well, after my car. She’s my baby, no doubt about that. But I spent damn near two whole paychecks on the fucking thing. Now I can watch shitty TV in high def.” He settles across from Jonas with an open beer bottle and waggles those thick eyebrows.

Jonas feels his mouth quirking up in response. The man’s sharp lip lifts into a smile that reveals a row of large teeth, looking slightly surprised but also weirdly pleased. Jonas is about to passionately tell about doing something similar because his video games deserve an awesome high-res screen, but that immediately reminds him of his gaming partner, how worried she must be, the situation at hand, don’t get sucked in Jonas.

He leaves the food, and the medicine, untouched on the table and crosses his arms. “Why did you bring me here?”

The guy snorts as he sips his beer. “Bring you here? Ya followed me home, Joey.”

Jonas frowns. Well. If he was as drunk as he thinks he was, it’s definitely a possibility. “So I—”

“Aw shit,” the guy interrupts with a pinched look on his face. “You don’t remember a thing, do you? That’s why ya actin’ all,” he gestures at Jonas’ crossed arms and hunched shoulders, “scared an’ shit? I mean, you were pretty fuckin’ trashed last night so—”

“And you still brought me—sorry, ‘let me follow’ you home knowing I was completely inebriated?” He can feel his face twisting up in incredulity.

The guy’s face twists up, too. Jonas is wondering what the heck he has to be upset about when he opens his mouth and throws Jonas for a loop.

“The fuck’s that mean?”

Jonas blinks. And blinks again. “Um,” he starts slowly, “I’m accusing you of—”

“Naw, naw, that long fuckin’ word. What’s that mean?”

Oh.

“Oh.” Jonas isn’t exactly sure how this conversation got away from him so fast. “Um, it means drunk, basically. Unable to make good decisions, apparently.” He murmurs the last part under his breath but the twitch of the guy’s eyebrow says he heard him loud and clear.

“Okay, alright.” The guy huffs and takes an annoyed swig from his bottle. “Well, I guess I figured you’d be better off bringin’ your inbritated ass here instead of roamin’ the city by yourself.”

Just as he’s about to open his mouth and loudly debate the flawed logic in that statement, the guy’s words finally sink in. “By myself? What happened to the people I was with?”

Jonas watches, with bated breath, as he simply shrugs and looks away with something close to a pout. “Dunno. I saw you come in with a few people, but when I came over to get that creepy fucker offa you, you wasn’t with nobody.”

“Weren’t with anyone,” he absently corrects as his head buzzes. He’d been alone? But that doesn’t make any sense. There’s no way his overprotective sister would’ve just let him run off to— Wait. “Hold on, what creepy, um, person? What happened?”

The guy’s lip curls as he spins in his seat until Jonas is watching his profile take a quick, angry sip. “Some old, handsy mofo was tryin’ to get you in his car. Told him to leave you be, but he started tryin’ to drag you. I was this close to fuckin’ him up but you looked real upset, so.” He clears his throat and Jonas is fascinated by the splash of color that creeps up his neck. “Anyway,” he continues after a beat of silence, “I kicked him out and asked if you was alright.”

The man’s words bring a memory to the forefront: Jonas being tugged on and pleading to be left alone. At first he’d assumed it belonged to his time in Dean and Sue’s house, but the fresh bruises on his biceps twinge at the thought. He rolls up one sleeve and shows his tablemate the ring of discolored flesh. “Did…. He gave me these?”

Jonas is surprised that, when the man’s face darkens in a heavy, terrifying scowl at the sight of them, it doesn’t scare him. Instead something inside him warms. “Yeah,” he mutters, then frowns dejectedly and glances at Jonas for a split second. Regret is written all over his face. “Sorry I couldn’t stop ‘im sooner.”

“Oh, no!” Jonas leans forward in his seat, startling the man slightly. “I… I’m grateful. That you helped me out at all. You didn’t have to so thank you, uh…..” He pauses then gasps in horror. “Oh my god, this is horrible. You kept me from getting harassed and I’m sitting in your kitchen—I followed you home, but I don’t even know your name!” He knows his face is bright red and he’s rambling; the man must think he’s crazy! First Jonas stalks him home, then he takes advantage of him, and then he wakes up sober and acts like a total fool.

To his complete and utter surprise, the man starts to chuckle. He hides his mouth behind the half-empty bottle but Jonas can still see his wide smile. It’s oddly endearing.

“Name’s Mitch. And don’t ya worry nothin’ about it, Spots.”

Jonas tilts his head. “Spots?”

“Yeah.” Mitch gestures Jonas’ face with his bottle. “You got dots all over you. S’cute.”

Jonas may very well spontaneously combust if his face gets any hotter. “What?” It makes him feel a bit better that Mitch’s ears are getting darker by the second. But he’s extremely glad when Mitch starts the conversation up again.

“So.” He pointedly clears his throat. “After that, you followed me around for the rest of the night.” A smirk suddenly lifts his lips. “I even tried to keep you from drinkin’ anything else, but your drunk self is real quick or some shit. You kept runnin’ to down one and comin’ back to talk to me. Stayed with me for the rest of my shift.” He pauses for a moment then tips a finger toward Jonas. “Oh, yeah, I tried to get your wallet to get you back home, but you told me to stop tryin’ to feel ya up and just take you home with me. Even tried to call you a cab, but you wasn’t havin’ it.”

Yep. Jonas is mortified. He wants to curl up in the corner and stay there forever. Or have the ground open up and swallow him. Whichever happens first. Mitch’s smirk is beyond smug now and that just makes it worse.

Jonas hides his face in his hands. “And then we….”

“We what?”

Nope, he refuses to say it out loud. “Nope, not saying it.”

Mitch frowns. At least Jonas thinks he’s frowning; he’s yet to open his eyes and remove his hands. “What are—”

“Look, I don’t normally do this sort of thing.” Jonas figures he should just get this part of the conversation over quickly. Just rip it off like a bandage. “Actually, I’ve never done anything like this, period, so I have no idea what to do. I’m not a one night stand kind of guy. I’ve never even been with a guy before!” He can feel himself starting to spiral out of control and it is not a comfortable feeling.

Across from him, Mitch splutters in his beer. “One night— oh shit. You think we—” The rest of his response is drowned out by raucous laughter, loud and surprised. Mitch nearly upends his drink all over the table, he’s bouncing so much.

Jonas is not amused.

“Aw shit, Joey, that’s funny as fuck!”

He crosses his arms. “And what, exactly, is so funny?” Sure, he knows he’s not the best looking guy, and yeah, he knows his weight is a turn off for a lot of people, but that doesn’t mean he’s going sit here and take the laughter in his face. And if he feels a burn behind his eyes, well. He’s used to feeling like this by now. To being treated like this.

Mitch continues like he hasn’t noticed Jonas’ change in demeanor. He wipes a tear of mirth from his eye and relaxes back in his chair. “You thinkin’ we fucked last night. Now don’t get me wrong, I’d jump all over that if ya let me.” He smirks at Jonas over the top of his bottle. It’s empty. “You’re hot as fuck.”

Oh. Well then.

The sudden one-eighty his feelings take nearly gives him whiplash. The burn behind his eyes slides smoothly down to his cheeks; he knows they’re on fire. Jonas swears he’s going to explode talking to this man.

Whether or not he notices Jonas having an existential crisis on the other side of the table is anyone’s guess, but Mitch just keeps talking while picking at the label on the bottle. “But you didn’t do nothin’ but sit on my bed and talk to me for hours. Uh, that’s not true.” Jonas freezes, fearing the worst. “Before that, you kinda puked on yourself on the way here. I cleaned ya up the best I could. Uh, your shoes and shirt are in the laundry room.”

Jonas follows his finger to the kitchen and he sees the washer and dryer in a nook near the refrigerator.

“I gave you another shirt ‘cause you said you don’t like bein’ without one,” Mitch continues. “Then you fell asleep so I slept out here on the couch.” He shrugs. “And here we are.”

Jonas doesn’t know what to say. “I… Mitch, thank you.”

“For what?” The man looks genuinely confused and Jonas knows he’s in for it.

“For taking care of me. You didn’t have to.” Mitch is already waving him off.

“Naw, it was no big deal. You just wanted to talk and I didn’t wanna have to fuck somebody up for takin’ advantage of ya.”

A laugh bubbles out of Jonas and something pleased settles in him when Mitch smiles back at him. A comfortable silence lingers around them as they just sit there and smile at one another like dopes. But the moment’s broken when Mitch clears his throat tellingly and looks down at the table.

“What’s wrong?”

“I, ah, I told ya we had to talk earlier, right? I mean, you don’t gotta, but—I mean, shit, do you wanna talk? About crap. You said a lot of stuff last night, but I know talkin’ about it sober is, uh, different.”Mitch looks a bit uncomfortable and that worries Jonas.

“Oh, no. What’d I talk about? Something weird?” He certainly hopes not.

“Like about what had ya so, uh… inee— uh, inbri— drunk last night. So, uh, ya wanna—”

“Thanks,” Jonas cuts him off quickly as politely as he can. He knows what Mitch means, and he doesn’t want to deal with that just yet. “That’s sweet of you but… not yet.”

Surprisingly, Mitch backs off immediately. He raises his hands and says, “That’s cool. Your business is your business, Spots. But.” He reaches forward and takes the plate of pancakes in hand. “I am gonna reheat these cold ass pancakes. You need to eat. And take them pills. Know your head hurts like a bitch.”

Jonas laughs and watches Mitch’s back as he retreats around the little counter into kitchen. “Alright, alright.” He does as he’s told, swallowing the pills with a quick swig of water. Then he downs the rest of the cup because it feels heavenly on his dry throat. He clears his throat afterward. “Oh, hey, have you seen my phone?”

“Over by the couch. I got the same charger.”

“Cool. Thanks.” They share another smile that has Jonas’ insides producing butterflies. He walks away wondering what’s wrong with him.

Picking his way around the cans and bottles scattered every which way, Jonas can’t imagine how Mitch managed to sleep out here and not wake up looking like death has come. Or like his back has endured trauma, at the very least. He finally finds his phone, fully charged, on the floor beneath the window. He taps the screen and is unsurprised to find a plethora of missed calls and texts from a few different people. With a resigned sigh, he keys in his password and prepares himself for the worst.

There are twenty-four unread texts, all of which are asking where he is/ has been in varying degrees of urgency. He doesn’t even want to think about the large number of missed calls. He doesn’t think his phone has ever seen such action. Three of the texts are from Lewis, a high school acquaintance that had followed him to college after graduation; eight are from Charlotte, Sidney’s ex-roommate who’s gotten very comfortable being in very close proximity with his sister as of late, but they’re mostly about how worried Sidney is; and a whopping thirteen of them are from his sister. His very protective, older twin sister who had apparently left him in a club at who-even-knows o’clock at night. Oh, they are going to have words.

Just as he’s about to aggressively press the call button, Mitch pipes up from across the room, voice carrying over the loud hum of the microwave. “Oh, yeah. Your ride’s on the way.”

Um. What? “I’m sorry,” Jonas asks with a few blinks.

“Some girl called, like, four times. Said she was comin’ to get ya, so I gave her the address.” He scoffs at the revolving plate of pancakes. “After she threatened to gut me when she saw me.”

Oh my gosh. “When was this?”

Mitch shrugs, and Jonas notices that his shoulders are a bit tenser than they’d been earlier. “’Bout fifteen minutes? Told her you was sleep and would call when you got up. Then I kinda forgot, so. Yeah, call her.”

Jonas rolls his eyes but he can’t hide the little chuckle that slides past his lips. Instead of replying, he dials his sister’s number and braces himself.

Sid answers halfway through the second ring. “JONAS?!”

He heaves a quiet sigh. “Yeah, Sid. And before you ask, I’m perfectly fine.”

“What happened to the creep who answered your phone,” comes her immediate response, which doesn’t surprise him at all. “Did you have to escape?”

Christ. “What? No. I’m still here. Be nice, he’s a nice guy.”

She huffs. “Yeah, nice enough to lure impressionable, young, drunk college students back to his lair.”

“First off,” Jonas starts, feeling his lip curl into a heavy frown, “it wasn’t like that. He hasn’t done anything to me and I’m the one imposing. Second, if he hadn’t ‘lured’ me, there’s no telling who would have because you guys left me thereby myself!” The guilt he feels at talking to his sister like this sits in the back of his mind. He knows he’ll feel bad about it later but right now, he won’t tolerate Sidney bad-mouthing the only person who’d thought to take care of him last night when his friends had failed to do exactly that.

And maybe he is a little more rankled at her unkind remarks toward Mitch than he should be but… he’s just being a good person and defending him. Any other reason is strictly a thought for another time. Preferably when he gets out of the man-in-question’s apartment.

Sidney, however, is quick to apologize, pleading down the line. “Oh, Jojo, no, I would never—I was with Charlotte, she got sick and asked me to take her back. I talked to you and Lewis before I left, I swear! You told me you were fine, which I didn’t immediately believe because you’d had quite a few drinks, but Lewis swore to me he’d watch after you. Don’t worry, I’ve already told that asshole off, but he is sooooo not in the clear. I’m going to drop kick him into the freakin’ sun when I catch his ass on campus, I swear—”

“Sidney. Point, please.”

“Yeah, right, okay.” She clears her throat. “Apparently, Lewis went to get another drink and when he came back, you were with some tall guy. He said you were looking at him like… nevermind. But Lewis said you gave him this scary look when he tried to walk over and then you just left with the guy.” Sid huffs in disbelief. “He’s probably lying, I cannot believe he let you—”

“Uh,” he interrupts with a wince, “he may not be lying after all?” God, he cringes harder every time he hears about something he did last night. Mortification is not a nice feeling, he’s starting to realize.

There’s a dense pause that Jonas has no desire to break. He waits for Sidney’s hard breath out of her nose, a sign that she’s trying to calm herself down. “Whatever, I’m on my way now,” she says instead of whatever he knows she actually wants to tell him. He hears the jangling of keys in the background. “The address he gave me matches the location on your phone, so I guess he wasn’t lying or trying to abduct you. It’s not far from the club, so e.t.a. is fifteen minutes. Try to stay alive ‘til then.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! It took us at least half an hour to get to the club last night. No way you’ll get here in half the time without breaking every single rule of the road in the process.”

He has to hold the phone at arm’s length when she screeches, “DOES THAT REALLY MATTER RIGHT NOW?!”

“YES,” he hollers back, ignoring the flinch he sees from the kitchen. “You know we can’t afford any speeding tickets right now!” He sucks in a quick breath to calm himself and continues in a softer voice. “Look, I’m absolutely fine, Sid. And I’ll continue to be fine until you get here. At a decent speed.”

She scoffs so hard, he thinks it must have hurt her throat. “Fine. But I’m bringing my knife in case this dick acts up.”

“Oh, my god, I’m hanging up.”

“Whatever,” she scoffs before going quiet. Softly, she whispers, “Please stay safe, Jojo.”

“I am, I promise. Don’t worry.”

They exchange ‘I love you’s and hang up, leaving Jonas to heave a loud sigh. Looks like there’s a long conversation waiting for him on the ride home, he thinks with a roll of his eyes. Their conversation has caused his headache to flare up, so he closes his eyes for a moment and just breathes.

Then he turns to head back to the table, catching Mitch trying to act like he hadn’t been listening to every word of the conversation. The tall man’s head twitches back around as he fiddles with the microwave restlessly. Jonas heaves yet another sigh and wades back through the living room to take his seat again.

“So, er, everything okay?” Mitch’s arms keep crossing in front of his chest only to fall back at his side, then back up again. He looks uncomfortable and Jonas is starting to feel the same which, oddly enough, is something he hadn’t expected to happen after their short conversation earlier.

“Yeah. She’ll, uh, be here soon.”

“Right.”

The silence that follows bothers him more than he’d care to admit. Even the obnoxious dinging of the old microwave isn’t enough to make everything less awkward. But, as Jonas has been noticing since he woke up, Mitch doesn’t handle silence or unaddressed topics very well. He scratches his beard and gives Jonas a quick glance.

“Uh,” he huffs while addressing the wall. “Sorry if I pissed you off answerin’ your phone. Or got ya in trouble with your girlfriend or somethin’.”

“My what?” Where had he gotten— oh. Hah, that’s funny. But Mitch continues before Jonas can correct him.

“You look kinda young to have a wife. Ain’t judgin’ if you do, though. Jussayin’.”

The laugh that bubbles out of him feels so good it surprises Jonas, and Mitch too, if his sharp flinch is anything to go by. He laughs loud and hard, doubling over until his forehead taps the tabletop and even then, it doesn’t stop. There’s no way he thought the comment was that funny, yet here he is.

“Joey?” When Jonas looks up, Mitch’s face is a little red but his eyebrows are pinched in concern.

“Hah,” he breathes, still trying to pull himself together. “I, hah, no, no. No. That’s my sister. Twin actually.”

The look on Mitch’s face is nearly enough to set him off into giggles again. He lets out a snort and bites his lip, which he notices Mitch noticing. It feels nice. It’s also odd to notice and feel good about it.

Breaking his gaze from Jonas’ lips, Mitch clears his throat and opens the microwave. “So…. Food. Right.” Seconds later the same plate is placed in front of Jonas. The pancakes look just as appetizing as they did before. He can’t wait to tear into them. Just as he’s picked up the fork Mitch had set out for him, he notices the distinct lack of place setting on the other side of the table.

“Did you eat already?”

Mitch shrugs, a new bottle of beer in hand. “I’ll, uh, eat later.”

Jonas shrugs right back at him. He hadn’t pressed Jonas earlier, so Jonas won’t press him now. Fair enough, he thinks. So he cuts a piece of the fluffy cake and stuffs it in his mouth, unable to keep a pleased noise from escaping him. “Holy cow, they taste great. Did you make these?”

Mitch has turned again, giving Jonas a perfect view of his profile and his slowly reddening face and neck. He sips at his beer tentatively. “That’s pretty much all I know how to… not burn on the stove.”

Jonas laughs and continues his way through one amazing breakfast.

He’s about halfway through the second pancake (making happy little noises all the while) when he notices Mitch staring. He swallows hastily and clears his throat. “Sorry, what’s up?”

“Nothin’,” Mitch responds immediately as he looks toward the living room quickly. “Just, uh, haven’t had many people over ‘cept my ma and the three assholes I call friends.” He shrugs and gives Jonas a little smirk. “It’s different havin’ you in here, ya know, quiet.”

“My drunk self probably talked enough for the both of us.” Jonas’ cheeks redden a bit at the thought but he’s also smiling. Guess he’s starting to get a little less embarrassed about his state last night.

Mitch snorts a little laugh that Jonas kind of finds adorable coming from such a big, muscle-y guy. “Yeah,” he says slowly, “but it’s cool. You’re a total nerd, don’t get me wrong, but it works for you.”

Okay, so he _was_ less embarrassed. That feeling has definitely passed. He gulps and says, “Oh, God. Did I say anything weird?” If he’d talked about why he was so drunk last night, there’s no telling what else he’d dumped on this poor, unsuspecting man he’d unknowingly stalked home.

But Mitch doesn’t seem too bothered. He just toys with the bottle in his hand, this one empty as well. “Naw, you mostly kept tellin’ me facts about them sea animals you studyin’. Oh, and stuff about photographin’ that I didn’t understand.”

“Photography,” Jonas chuckles around another bite of pancake. It should weird him out how easily Mitch can say something to rile him up and calm him down in almost the same breath. It doesn’t, for whatever reason. Jonas refuses to question it. “I… actually didn’t think I was a talkative drunk. Thought I would be a bit more, ah, reserved.”

“Why?”

His shoulder bounces a bit in a shrug. “I don’t really talk all that much already so I just figured….”

“Well, I like hearing ya talk, so feel free to run off at the mouth sober too.” Mitch shrugs too, so nonchalant despite having just sent Jonas’ heartbeat ratcheting up with an off-handed comment. That’s been happening a lot, Jonas has noticed. He… doesn’t dislike it, per say.

With darkened cheeks, Jonas leans forward and asks, “So does that mean I can ask you some questions?”

“Hm,” Mitch scratches as his beard and the scritching noise mingles with the sounds of the city coming in through the window. “Fine, but only if I get to ask some back. And nothin’ too feely. It’s too early for feelings.”

Jonas throws his head back to laugh, looks back up to agree and then laughs some more when he sees Mitch’s wide, open grin. So the game begins.

True to their agreement, they both steer clear of any “feely” subjects, which Jonas is grateful for. He doesn’t want to bring down the happy little bubble they’ve ensconced themselves in with a discussion about his adoptive father and the heinous bullying he went through in high school. No, he’d rather keep things nice and light with fun little stories about how Lewis and his roommate can never beat Jonas at Super Smash Bros but Sidney kicks his butt almost immediately after the round begins, every time without fail. Or how Charlotte had once tried to bring a boy back to her and Sid’s dorm room while Jonas was there for a movie, but the guy had quickly left once he realized how focused his supposed date had been on Sidney as soon as the girls’ gazes had locked.

Mitch gives as good as he gets, drawing Jonas in with a funny story about his friend, Javier, scaring a baby at the supermarket with his clown face tattoos and his girlfriend never letting him live it down. He has Jonas nearly falling from his chair when he announces that his mother had tried to fix up another friend, Scratch, and then proceeded to give her a makeover. Or at least she’d attempted. Scratch had rebuffed every attempt to make her “pretty” for the nice, little office worker and, in the end, she’d bitten the guy’s hand to establish dominance in the relationship before they’d even gotten to the restaurant. Mitch proudly states that Scratch is just a “crazy-ass fucker who’s sweet on my ma” and had bitten the guy just because she didn’t want to tell his mom she’s a “huge, ragin’ lesbian”. Mitch’s smile throughout all of the stories shows Jonas how much he cares about his mother and his friends, even Cliff and his “thousands of fuckin’ farm animals back home”.

They never get around to really asking any questions; all the information they give up is voluntary and unprompted. Jonas just loves talking about his sister and their struggling college student life and Mitch obviously loves talking about his mom and talking about embarrassing his friends. It’s exactly the kind of nice, light-hearted conversation that Jonas has sort of expected it to be. Mitch had already seemed like a fun guy to hang out with- if a little rough around the edges- and Jonas hasn’t been disappointed. Is that why drunk-Jonas was so drawn to him last night?

Sitting in this chair, listening to Mitch tell stories about his life, getting to talk about all the parts of his life that he actually likes; Jonas loves it all. He doesn’t want this to end, admittedly, and he wishes he could just stop this little pocket of time. Or at least make it stretch on for a bit longer. But, all too soon, there comes an urgent pounding at the front door. Jonas rolls his eyes before he even hears her yelling.

“JONAS? ARE YOU IN THERE? OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW, WEIRD GUY!”

Mitch huffs a little laugh. “Your ride’s here, Joey.”

“I noticed,” he deadpans, then gets to his feet. “I’ll get her to shut up.”

“Naw, you don’t have to. I’ll just let her in.” Mitch pats his shoulder as he passes to the door and Jonas swears the skin lights on fire. “Get all your stuff together.”

He’s grabbing his missing clothes from on top of the washing machine when he sees Sidney rush past kitchen. “JONAS?!”

“Jesus, Sid, I’m right here.”

She turns around with her hair fanning out behind her in a crazy, curly wave. Her brow is furrowed just like he’d expected it to be. “Jojo!” She rushes up to him, then stops suddenly, her face falling into a scary scowl. “Why exactly do you have on somebody else’s shirt?”

“Chill out, I got my shirt dirty and he washed it,” Jonas retorts even though he can feel his face heating up at the crazy alternative. Crazy, but not altogether implausible apparently…. He clears his throat and gives her a quick hug. “I’m fine, sis. Calm down.”

She gives a loud huff and squeezes him back. “I’m glad. And I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you alone. I swear I—”

“Sidney.” She stops and releases a loud breath Jonas is sure she’s been holding since she left their little apartment.

“Fine, fine. I’ll be chill.” Her gaze flickers over him with an intense expression. “So… you’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”

“Oh my God.”

“I’m just asking!” She flails a little and tries to spin him around looking this way and that for the supposed injuries he’s gotten in the “creepy guy’s” house. “Let me just—”

He shakes his head. “Okay, no, you can be chill out in the car.”

“But—”

“I will be out in a few minutes, okay?” he interrupts with a soft hand on her shoulder. “Just let me change and say goodbye. Won’t take too long, I promise.”

Something in her face softens at his tone and, suddenly, her battle-ready stance falls, leaving just his loving sister in its place. She bites her lip and opens her mouth, probably to argue some more. But it snaps shut at the look he levels. She huffs and crosses her arms. “Fine,” she breathes, “but you get no more than seven minutes, you hear me? Or else I’m coming back up here with my knife.”

The laugh he lets loose is probably ill-timed, but whatever. He pats her shoulder when she glares and steers her toward the door. He sees Mitch hovering near the bedroom door. “Okay, seven minutes. Got it. I’ll be right down.”

With one last huff and a quick glare in Mitch’s direction (that Jonas may or may not roll his eyes at), Sidney finally stomps away from the door and down the stairs to the parking lot.

Jonas breathes a soft little sigh and shuts the door behind her. Mitch is in the same place when he turns around, looking extremely uncomfortable in his own home. Jonas instantly feels bad.

“I’m, uh, sorry about her,” he says gently, walking forward with little steps. The apartment is only so big; it takes all of a moment for them to be standing in each other’s space and staring one another down. Mitch’s face looks less pinched and Jonas is glad. He notices Mitch has grabbed his phone for him and is fiddling with it.

Mitch shrugs. “S’okay. I’d be worried ‘bout ya, too.”

Jonas smiles. This is the most he’s ever (genuinely) smiled in conversation before, he thinks. Usually it’s a tiny smirk at something dumb Lewis has said or a loud cackle at a joke Sid tells about the girls in her classes. He has to think about all of them. _Does this smile look too fake? Can he tell I hadn’t been listening if I smirk like this? Should I be smiling at that joke, it was pretty bad…._

These smiles with Mitch, though, come as easy as breathing. Even when he’d been convinced the guy had kidnapped him, Mitch had been making him smile. It’s bizarre. It’s lovely. Jonas thinks he should just head home and take a nap before his thoughts can get any more sappy or out of hand.

But then Mitch clears his throat and scratches his cheek, muttering lowly, “You can, uh, just keep the shirt. Don’t gotta change or nothin’. Yer clone looked like she was serious about that seven minute thing.”

Heat flares in his cheeks as he swallows loudly. “Um, I’ve already basically broken into your apartment. You shouldn’t have to give me your clothes, too.” Not that Jonas wouldn’t want them— whoa, whoa, whoa, that’s _not_ what he meant to think! He ducks his head because he knows his face must be glowing with color.

Large hands settle on his shoulders. “Naw, it’s cool. If it’s you, I don’t mind, Joey.”

Jonas takes a deep steadying breath and forces himself to look up, directly into Mitch’s eyes. “Thank you. For today. And last night. And dealing with my sister threatening you. Just… thanks for everything. I, uh….” He stuffs his shirt and shoes into one arm and reaches for the pocket holding his wallet with the other. “I know I don’t have a lot on me, but let me give you something for—”

“Fuck no,” Mitch grabs his hand and set it back at his side gently. “Ain’t no way in hell I’m letting ya pay me. No way, you hear me?” He stares at Jonas blinking in surprise for a moment before releasing him, never losing his gaze. “Just havin’ you talk to me like a normal fuckin’ person was enough, alright?”

Jonas blinks again. He thinks he may have stopped breathing.

“You hangin’ out with me was enough,” Mitch repeats, tone softer and eyes softer and grip on Jonas’ shoulder light but still strong enough to feel.

The two of them are just standing there, holding each other and staring into each other’s eyes, silently soaking in the moment. The sounds outside are muted, all except the loud, obnoxious car horn that’s just started blaring outside in the parking lot.

They release little sighs simultaneously and then share a laugh about that. Then Mitch takes Jonas’ shoes from the crook of his arm and sets them on the floor. “Guess yer time’s up, Spots.” He kneels and holds up one shoe, looking up expectantly.

Jonas doesn’t get it for a moment before understanding hits him. So he shyly lifts one foot and slides it into the shoe, letting Mitch pull it up. They repeat with the other foot and then Mitch stands up, either oblivious to or blatantly ignoring Jonas’ flaming cheeks and wild expression. “Alright, come on.” Jonas lets himself be surrounded by Mitch’s long (very muscular) arms and slowly frog-marched to the door. It’s hard not to let himself sink into Mitch’s warm chest and HE HAS GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE, THAT LAST THOUGHT WAS WAY TOO CORNY, EVEN FOR HIM.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Jonas hears himself squeak, “I’d think you were kicking me out.”

Mitch’s laugh rumbles through his chest (which Jonas is not leaning into, _thank you very much_ ) and his arms. “Naw, I just don’t want the clone marchin’ back up here to kick me in the balls or some shit. Besides, I’d keep ya here for the rest of the day if I could, Joey. No doubt about that.”

Before Jonas can formulate a proper (or decent) response in his frazzled mind, he’s standing over the threshold and they're staring at one another again. The light streaming in through the door frames Mitch in the oddest, kinda flattering way and Jonas really needs to calm himself down.

The big guy leans forward, right into Jonas’ space and whispers, “Don’t keep yer clone waitin’.” He grins and taps Jonas’ nose. “See ya around, Spots.”

There’s nothing else to do but turn and walk away, Jonas decides. That or kiss him, which Jonas knows he doesn’t have the balls to do, odd attraction to him notwithstanding. So he settles for biting his lip gently and smiling another genuine smile. “Yeah, see you around, Mitch.”

He knows he looks back a total of three times before he hits the stairs and loses sight of Mitch but every time he looks back, the big man is still leaning there in the door, still grinning like a maniac, still returning Jonas’ waves. When he finally falls out of Jonas’ vision, Jonas can feel the large, goofy smile remaining on his lips. It won’t go away not matter how hard he tries, which admittedly isn’t very hard but whatever.

The crazed grin doesn’t even fall from his face on the car ride home, not even when he listens to Sidney rant and rave, grilling him about what happened while he was there and apologizing profusely about unknowingly abandoning him last night.

Jonas just brushes them off because, as far as he’s concerned, last night was a success. Even though he may never see Mitch again, he silently thinks that his drunk self had done him a massive favor.


	2. Why the heck? Where the heck?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonas has no clue why he's here again (except that he totally does, he just doesn't want to admit it). Spoiler Alert: it all ends up working out just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. GUYS! Thank you for the wonderful comments! For real, every last one of them made my day. I'm just happy people like the gushy-mushy boys. Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. This one gave me a bit of trouble but I finally got it to a spot that I'm cool with.
> 
> Y'all. There is so much fluff. It's ridiculous.
> 
> So without further ado, here's chapter 2!

As the lights strobe across the dance floor and the music drills a beat into his ears, Jonas looks around and asks himself what the heck he’s even doing here.

Earlier this week, he’d watched as his sister, loudly and without an ounce of shame, tore Lewis a new one in the hallway outside the guy’s dorm room. His roommate had cowered just inside the door, looking like he wanted to help but had no idea how to do it. Charlotte had attempted to soothe Sid’s rage with an arm around her shoulders and a few words whispered into her hair. Apparently the blonde had come along for “emotional support”. Before that, she‘d come by their apartment to-- very dramatically-- apologize to Jonas for stealing his sister away that night, to which Jonas responded with an unimpressed stare and a flat acceptance of her apology.

Jonas doesn’t get it. Sidney has been friends with the girl for almost four years now and to this day, Jonas wonders just how long she’s going to keep this up. Despite all of Charlotte’s blatant flirting and obvious behavior, Sidney has yet to make a move. Jonas isn’t sure if she wants to at all. But he’ll stay out of it and let them pretend everything’s normal for a little while longer. It’s not his business, after all.

So he’d bypassed Charlotte, calmed his sister down and spoken to Lewis himself-- privately, ignoring Sid’s protests as he’d steered Lewis down the hall. His friend had felt awful but that night he was “a little scared of you and didn’t wanna piss off drunk-Jonas or your even scarier buff-bouncer-boyfriend”. After Jonas shrieked “HE’S NOT MY BOYFRIEND! WHAT HAS SIDNEY BEEN TELLING YOU?!”, they’d had a pretty calm and rational discussion; it had mostly consisted of Lewis apologizing for leaving him for the creepy guy and Jonas assuring him that Mitch had handled the creepy guy before anything could happen, and that was that. They’d gone to class together and caught lunch after, joking around like they usually do; everything had been fine.

He’d gone home with Sidney later that evening, shared some popcorn and watched a movie together on the couch. She‘d started a food fight and, even though they were going to have to clean the floor very thoroughly (he refuses to invite bugs into their apartment), he’d gone along with it. They’d laughed and wrestled and had a good time. Everything had been fine.

Then he’d retreated to his room to get some reading done for his last few classes before the semester was out, sifting through pages of marine biology texts like he was made for it. He’d put in his earbuds and rocked out to a playlist and everything had been _fine_.

Except that it wasn’t. Except that it _still_ isn’t.

Every moment leading up to the end of the semester has been a struggle. Every thought bouncing around in his head somehow takes a turn for the negative, his emotions take a swan-dive off a cliff and his anxiety forms a heavy cloud that floats above his head all day long. Is he going to do well enough on these last few tests? How will this grade affect his GPA? What if he forgets everything he’s been studying? What is he going to do if he doesn’t get the scholarship to pay for his next semester? Can the entire class tell that he’s not finished yet? What if he doesn't _ever graduate_ \--

The list goes on and on, a never-ending loop of panic and frustration. All of his whirling thoughts and the pressure of a typical college schedule, plus his part time job at the campus bookstore, just ate away at him until he couldn’t hide it anymore. Not from his extremely observant sister, at least.

Sidney had sat him down one evening at dinner and tried to coax the problem out of him. He hadn’t felt like talking about it so he’d gotten a bit snippy. She hadn’t felt like arguing so she’d gone to get him some ice cream, kissed his head and gone to bed. Guilt had settled in his stomach immediately, so he’d gone after her and promised to talk about it when he could. Not now, but soon. _Maybe_ , he’d added in his head. She’d shrugged it off even though he could tell it would still be bothering her for a while. He’d also known she was going to try and cheer him up some kind of way; he just hadn’t thought it would go… quite like this.

He’d been expecting it but he still doesn’t know how it got him where he is now: in the same club they’d been at a week prior. Apparently Sid’s silver tongue and Charlotte’s witty charm (and boobs) had been enough to get them inside with minimal fuss and partial pay because they’d walked right on in. Jonas still isn’t sure how they got him through the front door, passed the huge bouncer with the crazy face tattoos; he’s wearing worn out jeans and a faded hoodie from high school, for crying out loud!

“What are we doing here,” he shouts over the music. Sidney just shakes her head and motions for him to follow. He doesn’t know much about clubbing but from what Charlotte and the internet has taught him, this crowd is a bit thick for it to be nine o’clock on a Friday night.

They end up at a little table in the far corner, one of the only unoccupied ones near the bathrooms. The music is a little less overbearing over here so Jonas is grateful. Sid slides into a seat and Charlotte slithers into the one at her elbow, both of them staring at him pointedly. Jonas rolls his eyes but does as he’s bid, plopping into the chair and glancing around. He doesn’t see Mit-- _anyone they know_ around, so he turns back around and flinches at the knowing look Sid levels at him.

“So why--” he starts. Sid interrupts. 

“We’re gonna go dance,” she says as she gets up, pulling a confused but excited Charlotte to her feet. Sid pauses but slings an arm around her waist and tugs her away from the table, leaving Jonas to roll his eyes again at the girl’s wide-eyed grin and his sister’s twitching frown.

“If you wanted to dance, we could’ve put on some music at home and called it a day,” he snarks as he moves to stand. Sidney throws a vicious point at him that makes him freeze.

She turns to her friend. “C, go and find us a good spot. I’ll be right behind you.”

“‘Kay.” The blonde bounces away with her heels clacking behind her. A group of guys follow her with their eyes as she moves past but Sid isn’t paying attention to any of them.

She rounds the table to stand next to him and interrupts when she sees his mouth open. “Ah, ah, ah, don’t look at me like that. It’s for your own good.”

“Sitting in a dark room with strangers while my eardrums bleed and you leave me here to go dance with your groupie?” Oops, he isn’t supposed to be commenting on their… whatever they have. The odd situation must’ve made it slip his mind.

She snorts. “No, smartass. I saw you looking for him. Go find him.” His sister checks her black nails in what she must think is a nonchalant fashion. Jonas thinks she just looks conniving, which… is oddly fitting under these circumstances. “I have it on good authority that he’s somewhere in the building and won’t be leaving for a little bit.”

“I don’t know know who you’re talking about,” he deflects even as his eyes bounce from face to face. He knows his cheeks must be red but hopes it’s a little too dark to see. Then there’s a gentle touch on his hand and he nearly groans when he looks up into her Concerned Older Sister (But Not Really) Face™.

“Jojo,” she starts and oh boy, here it comes. He wants to roll his eyes again but he knows she means well so…. Sid squeezes his hand and continues. “I know you didn’t meet under… the best circumstances--” He wants to announce that those circumstances were the result of him being abandoned, but he had also gotten very drunk that night and the comment might lead her to question why he’d been so drunk and he doesn’t think this is the right time to hash that out. A few years from now would be better for him. Or, you know, never. Yeah, he can work with never. “--and I know that you know I think he’s a creepy--”

“Sidney.”

“Right. My point is that you don’t think he’s bad. And even though you only knew him for, like, a night, you seemed... happy or something. So.” She scratches her fingers through her hair, pushing curls out of her face with a huff. Her cheeks puff like she doesn’t want to say what she’s about to say, but she does it anyway. “So I want you to find him and get his number. Or something.”

Jonas blinks. “What do you--”

“Jesus, Jo, I want you to hang out with him. Like you did last time. ‘Cause I haven’t seen you that sappy since you were blindly in love with Carmen Ramirez in high school. And she couldn’t even get your name right!”

“Hey! She talked to me all the time though!”

“Yeah, because you were doing all of the preppy idiot’s homework. Look,” she waves her hands around in an effort to get the conversation back on track. Jonas would rather she didn’t. “The point is, I know that you haven’t really been with a guy since you came out to me.” 

What an awkward conversation that had been for Jonas, owning up to his messy bisexual feelings; it had been all Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson’s fault…. Despite his nervousness, his sister had been completely understanding through the entire thing, just like he’d hope. That was mostly due to her also deciding to come out as a lesbian and explain why she’d been asking him to introduce her to some of his classmates. The twins now refer to the incident as them coming out of their joint closet.

“But I also know,” Sid says, “what you look like when you’re stupidly happy. And the big dude did that for you. So. Yeah. Go talk to him. ‘Cause I don’t like seeing my brother sad.”

Jonas shakes his head with a resigned smile. “I’m not sad, sis.”

“Well, you’re not happy,” she retorts a little forcefully but when she looks away, her voice is soft. Almost too soft to be heard over the music. “Just. If you can’t talk to me, I want you to talk to somebody you feel comfortable with.”

Neither of them says anything for a moment, letting her words sink in. Just when he starts figuring out what to say in response, she walks away, throwing a quick “Check by the bar. But no drinks! We drank away all our extra money last time!” over her shoulder as she hunts for Charlotte through the sea of people.

Jonas doesn’t think he’s felt this grateful toward or unsettled by his sister before in his life.

The trek to the bar is about as hectic as he’d expected it to be. There are bodies everywhere, music thumping and the floor is sticky no matter where he steps. He must have been extremely drunk to not have remembered any of this from his experience last weekend. That or drunk-Jonas is a master of suppression. Guess he’ll never know for sure.

Once the linoleum counter comes into sight, Jonas heaves a sigh of relief that’s swallowed up by the clinking of glasses. A party of women are sloppily performing a toast, which would have worked if they weren’t all trying to hit the glass of the person on their right. All of them sway to one side and form the least-graceful chain dance he’s ever seen. Jonas narrowly avoids the alcohol that sloshes out of the closest woman’s cup.

The situation on the other side isn’t much better; there’s some kind of arm-wrestling competition going on between a scrawny woman with green hair and-- is that the bouncer that had just been out front? It has to be; no two people would walk around permanently looking like a clown…. Jonas scoots a little closer and squints at the man a bit. He feels like he knows the guy. Or that he’s at least seen him around somewhere other than the club.

Before he can force himself to look away and stop being weird, the green-haired woman looks up and catches his eye. Then she smiles a crazy smile that sets him on edge immediately. He quickly spins around to lean his back against the bar and look out over the club, avoiding her gaze and trying to edge his way back to the group of drunk women as discreetly as possible. But she hollers out over the music: “Hey, cutie pie! You, with the dots! Yeah, I know you hear me! He’s actin’ like he can’t hear me. Ain’t that cute?!”

Nothing could make this situation any better. Absolutely nothing. Jonas glances around in desperation, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mitch jogging toward him. Or some other miracle, like his sister deciding she’s ready to go home. But no, there she is out on the dance floor, bouncing around with Charlotte and a few other people she’s apparently made friends with in the last few minutes. Her hair is floating around her and she looks like she’s having the time of her life so no, he can’t count no her to bail him out right now.

So Jonas stands there as the green-haired girl starts waving him over loudly and the clown-faced bouncer tries to encourage him over as well, ultimately wondering why the heck he’s even here being put through this situation. But then he catches sight of Mitch lumbering toward the bar and, suddenly, his doubts kind of fly away.

“Oh, shit, that must be him,” he hears one of them say, he’s not sure which one because he’d stopped trying to slide to the other side of the bar as soon as he saw Mitch. “Hey, kid! Jonas, right? Mitch is comin’ over to get this. Give it to him for us.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jonas sees the bouncer handing him an envelope but he’s not really paying attention because Mitch has looked up and seen him. His large mouth widens into a grin and Jonas can’t focus on anything else. The tall man shoves his way through the sea of sweaty clubbers, dodging drinks and pushing the more drunk/ handsy people a good distance away from him. Their reactions to being brushed aside would’ve made Jonas chuckle under his breath if he’d been paying attention.

The green-haired girl is saying something else but the music swells over her words, allowing Mitch an uncharacteristically artful exit from the dance floor, flailing limbs and all. He jogs over to Jonas with his arms twitching upward as he leans forward a bit only to stop like he’s been frozen or something. He settles for crossing his arms loosely across his chest and leveling Jonas with his broad, border-line scary grin. “Joey! What’re you doin’ here?” He frowns and glances around in concern. “Alone? Again? Do I gotta kick somebody’s ass?”

His upset glare makes Jonas giggle into his hand, shaking his head. “No, my sister’s here. And her friend. We were just… uh… I mean--”

“Mitch, are you gonna introduce us to the cutie pie?”

Jonas flinches when the green-haired girl comes crawling over the bar toward him. Her boots are on the counter and, when the bartender swats at her with his towel, she hisses back like a big, awnry cat. There’s a wild look in her eye that has Jonas scooting closer to Mitch almost unconsciously. Almost.

Mitch catches onto his mood immediately, just as Jonas realizes she’d called Mitch by his name. They know each other? “Sit your crazy ass down,” Mitch admonishes. “You’re creepin’ ‘im out.” He wraps a big arm around Jonas to pull him closer to his side, away from the girl and some of the clubbers who’re still standing a bit too close. Jonas has no issues with this new arrangement.

The girl pouts and her lip piercings poke out in a way that Jonas thinks they have to be hurting her. “Aw, I won’t hurt ya. Just wanna say hi to Mitchy’s new boy toy--”

A large hand swings around her and clamps down on her mouth. “Aaaand that’s enough outta you.” The clown-faced bouncer leans around her as she rounds on him, but he just presses her into his big chest and holds her still. It doesn’t look like he’s bothered by all of her excessive flailing. “Sorry, kid. Scratch gets a little… excited. Meetin’ new people and shit.”

“Uh.” Jonas gives them what he knows must be an awkward smile. “That’s okay. Hi? I’m, uh, Jonas.” Wait a second. Jonas narrows his eyes. “And you are?”

The clown smile painted on his face stretches with his wide smile. “Javier. But you can call me Javi if ya feel like. That’s what these assholes do.” He motions toward the bar with his chin, refusing to release the still-struggling woman-- Scratch?-- in his arms. “That one too. That’s Cliff.” The blonde bartender glances up and nods after a moment’s hesitation. Jonas isn’t sure how he can see anything with his hair falling into his eyes like that.

Then it all clicks. “You’re the friend who scared the baby!” Jonas slaps a hand over his mouth as soon as the words fall out of it but the damage has been done. Javier’s mouth twists down in a frown, Scratch’s cackle is loud enough to hear even with a big hand over her mouth, and Jonas can see Cliff’s shoulders bouncing from the corner of his eye. But Mitch is much less reserved (or restrained) than the rest; his long, heavy body comes crashing down on Jonas, both arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders as he leans down and guffaws loudly into Jonas’ hair.

“Quit bein’ a jackass and tellin’ people that!” Beneath his ink, Javier’s face goes a shade darker. Jonas lets loose a quiet chuckle from under Mitch but he freezes immediately when the big bouncer’s eyes catch his. Maybe Jonas shouldn’t laugh at people who could effortlessly beat him up. Mitch won’t let anybody touch him; he knows that. But he probably shouldn’t _invite_ them to--

Javier’s lip twitches into an amused little smile, as if he’s trying to be upset but can’t quite manage it. “Don’t let him fill your head with the weird shit he says about me, little bro. I don’t bite.” He winks and Jonas holds back a snort at the odd image he makes. “Not much.”

Scratch chooses his moment of distraction to wiggle free and flounce toward Jonas and Mitch. “That’s not what Angie tells me!”

The little group breaks into another round of giggles as Javier shouts, “You shut the fuck up and mind your business!”

Mitch’s friends are funny, Jonas assesses with a smile as he watches them trade insults and smarmy looks before laughing at each other in that way only close friends can. Cliff has moved closer to them up the bar to clean the counters, offhandedly mixing drinks and sliding them to his drunk patrons when they wobble up to him. His quiet but menacing stare keeps the more rambunctious ones at bay until he calmly makes his way to them. Jonas can’t help but be impressed. Scratch (it can’t be her real name but Jonas is too thrown by her crazed demeanor to ask about it) has taken it upon herself to drag random clubbers in circles when they get too close. Then she cackles in their faces until they scurry away and she can join the conversation again. It’s mildly concerning but… she’s not hurting anybody, so Jonas shrugs and lets her be. It’s a club, and she seems to be having fun. Javier’s given up on trying to tame the woman, obviously used to her behavior and noticing that she hasn’t actually caused anyone bodily harm. So the big man settles more fully against the bar and tries to include Jonas in the conversation every chance he gets. Jonas thinks Javi might be his favorite. Well, excluding the obvious.

Speaking of favorites, Jonas notices Mitch hasn’t moved yet and that he doesn’t mind it one bit. He keeps his arm wrapped loosely around the man’s lower back while the guy finishes telling them about the “handsy fucker that tried to grab my ass on the way over here” and how he’d had to “scare him straight for a minute”. Mitch’s face has been open and relaxed since they’d grouped together, nowhere near as pinched and frowned-up as he’d been wading through the throng of drunk dancers. Not that Jonas has been sneaking peeks up at him every chance he gets. And _if_ he does, it’s just to check that Mitch has no problem with him being here, surrounded by the guy’s closest friends. Or whatever he calls them; Jonas has heard different terms of endearment thrown around. _That’s it_ , Jonas tries to tell himself even as his head twitches away from the man’s long-lipped grin.

He catches Javier’s amused smirk immediately and hopes it’s dark enough to hide the darkening of his cheeks.

That’s right! “Hey, uh, Javier,” Jonas squeaks as the laughter around him dies down a bit. All eyes turn to him and he gulps. “I, uh, didn’t get a chance to ask. How’d you know I was looking for-- I mean, how’d you know I was here? Before I introduced myself?” God, maybe he shouldn’t have asked. It’s bad enough the guy can obviously tell he’s into Mitch, but he absolutely does not want him telling Mitch that Jonas had been scanning the place specifically for him, desperately hoping to see the man again. He glances up and hopes all of that is conveyed in his eyes alone.

Javier either picks up on Jonas’ desire to keep his actions between them or is just that nice, because he simply smiles at him and answers without mentioning it. Jonas decides to amend his earlier statement: Javier is _definitely_ his favorite now. “Mitch told us aaaaaall about ya the other night--”

“Do I gotta fuck you up too, bozo?”

“--so when I saw you lookin’ around all confused,” he continues as if Mitch had never snarled, “I wasn’t sure if it was you or not. But then his long ass came over all happy an’ shit and didn’t even see us so I just assumed.” He lets out a loud, deep laugh that shakes his broad shoulders. “Guess it all worked out, huh?”

Scratch cackles somewhere behind them. She’s dancing in circles around them, Jonas guesses. “Yeah! Worked out fine!” Then she leaps up to press a sloppy, wet kiss to Mitch’s cheek and turns tail into the crowd, howling with laughter as Mitch shouts curses and threats at her back.

“Not really,” Mitch turns back to grumble, hand still rubbing disgustedly at his skin. Jonas can’t help the snort that escapes him but he makes sure to bite his lip in innocence when Mitch looks his way. His grin breaks loose when the tall man rolls his eyes and tugs him closer. “I still ain’t got my damn check, clown-face.”

Javier snaps his fingers. “Oh, yeah. Boss man left early, so he asked me to give it to you. Here.” He plucks an envelope from over the counter and Jonas recognizes it as the one the guy had been waving around when Mitch had first caught his eye. _So he’s here for his check_ , Jonas thinks as he watches the envelope change hands. _But how did Sidney_ \--

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Jonas flinches beneath Mitch’s tense arm at the man’s shout. He’s holding the ripped-open envelope and giving the check a harsh glare. “Uh, what’s wrong?”

“Son of a bitch cheated me, that’s what!” Mitch is spitting mad, but he has yet to release Jonas and Jonas tries to ignore the fluttering feeling in his stomach when that strong arm tightens around him unconsciously. “Where’s the rest a my fuckin’ money, huh?!”

Some of the clubbers still loitering around them turn and take notice but they flinch and turn away immediately at the sight of Mitch’s face. Jonas thinks about rubbing his back to soothe him but promptly shuts that thought down because _that’s embarrassing, Jo, what do you think you’re doing?_ He does feel bad though. Mitch seems like he works pretty hard and takes his job seriously, if the situation with the creep from Jonas’ last visit says anything, so Jonas understands why he feels slighted--

“Aw, shut up, man,” Javier says as he swishes the liquor in his glass around. Cliff must have slid it to him down the bar. He takes a swig and gestures to Mitch. “He said he’d dock your pay if he caught you lightin’ up on duty again. You got caught, he docked you. And he already told you he did it, so calm your tits.”

What.

“You have more tits than me,” Mitch shoots back distractedly.

Jonas sighs in exasperation. “Mitch, really?” 

The guy’s too busy staring at the little slip of paper. Then his lips curls in a sneer of disdain. “Damn, you’re right.” He hums for a moment before shooting his friend a mischievous smirk. “Bet ya it’s locked up in his office drawer like last time. Got the key?”

Javier reaches into his back pocket and tosses them over.

Jonas doesn’t think his expression can be more unimpressed.

But Mitch just gives him a playful grin and a light squeeze before leaning down close. “Be right back, Joey. Don’t get drunk off yer ass ‘til I get back.”

“Uh!” Jonas shoves him away with a quiet huff of laughter. “Go away!” He hears Mitch’s laughter even after he’s disappeared into the crowd, heading somewhere toward the back of the club. The too-happy clubbers closest to him flock to fill Mitch’s vacant spot instantly, so Jonas scoots closer to Javier to avoid an elbow to the face as an overzealous dancer gets a bit too close.

He slowly climbs onto a bar stool, cursing his short legs, only to look up directly into Javier’s smiling, clowny face. Oh, no. What now?

But Javier doesn’t say anything at first; he just turns toward the counter and waves Cliff back down. Jonas isn’t sure if the guy noticed how panicked his face probably had been or if he can just feel that Jonas isn’t used to this. At all. Either way, he’s grateful. Javier takes his drink from Cliff and gestures toward Jonas. Cliff nods after a second. 

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Jonas tries to wave the bartender back to rescind the order but Javier pushes his hand down to the counter.

“Don’t sweat it, lil bro. S’on me.”

 _Well, that’s nice of him_ , Jonas thinks. And as far as endearments go, that one’s not so bad. So he settles back onto the stool and accepts the glass Cliff slides his way with a flicker of a smile. It’s not too strong when he takes a sip but Jonas still takes careful sips, trying to ignore how Javier is staring him down.

The silence is short-lived. Jonas is calmly sipping away while he glances around them at random party-goers and, when he swings his head to the left, he sees Javier smirking at him. He lowers his glass with a defeated sigh and waves for the man to continue.

“Mitch’ll never tell you this,” he starts, facing the bar with his smile still in tact, “but he’s been actin’ all sad an’ shit since y’all hooked up.”

Jonas almost drops his drink. “We didn’t--”

“Ah, ah, ah.” The big man waves his hands around quickly, effectively cutting Jonas off before he can begin to explain. “Look, I love the asshole, but I don’t want no details. None. That’s private an’ all. But.” He drums his fingertips along the countertop slowly. Jonas is suddenly very nervous even though he can’t hear the tapping over the music and noise around them. “But I think y’all should chill. Maybe get his number or somethin’....”

He _knew_ it! “I _knew_ it!” Javier’s face scrunches up a bit at the shout, but Jonas ignores that and the questioning, startled looks he receives from other patrons, choosing instead to lean closer to the bouncer. “How do you know Sidney?”

“Got no idea what you’re talkin’ about--”

“Cut the crap. I’ve already decided you’re my favorite. Don’t ruin in.”

Javier throws a fist to his chest as if he’s clutching a string of pearls. “Aw! Your favorite? Lil’ ol’ me?” Jonas tries to hold in his snort but he can’t, and soon they’re both chuckling into their glasses. Javier sets his down with a clunk and sighs. “I knew I was gonna like ya, lil bro.”

Jonas smiles. A real smile. Javier must be able to tell because he claps a big hand on Jonas’ shoulder with a hearty laugh.

“Alright, alright, fine,” the man breathes. “Ya caught me. Your sis called the club the other day and asked when Mitch was workin’. Told her he wouldn’t be in for a few days but he was comin’ in to get his money.” He shrugs and raises his glass again. “We made a deal: she’d bring ya by and I’d let y’all in with a discount. But I did catch some shit for your outfit.” Jonas does not appreciate the pointed once-over he receives, thank you very much. “You usually go out like that?” 

“I didn’t even know we were coming!” He crosses his arms, pointedly ignoring the heat flaring across his face.

Javi just shrugs again. “Fair enough. Look.” He turns to face Jonas fully, not even giving his drink a second glance. Jonas gulps at the sudden, serious look on his face. “Don’t be mad at her. She just wanted to do somethin’ nice for ya.” 

“Like you did for Mitch,” Jonas hears himself blurt out. As far as unconscious mutterings go, he could’ve said worse. He has, in fact, done that before.

Just like that, the somber atmosphere lifts. Javier lets loose that booming laugh again and waves the comment away. “Ha! Right. Just like that.” Then he startles Jonas, along with the drunk party of women that have somehow made their way to their side of the bar, with a loud clap. “Now. I’m gonna drag her off,” he announces, pointing at Scratch out on the dance floor shaking her hair in people’s faces to the beat of the music, “and leave y’all alone. Tell Mitch not to overdo it.”

Under Jonas incredulous stare, Javier downs the rest of his drink and hops down off the stool. From over his broad shoulder, he screams, “Have fun!” and disappears into the writhing mass of dancing clubbers.

Jonas blinks.

“Where the fuck’s he goin’?”

Jonas blinks again. And then he flails at the face that suddenly crowds into his space. “Mitch! Jeez!” He huffs and rights himself on the stool, sliding back against the bar. “What took you so long?”

Mitch just shrugs and crosses his arms, hip cocked against the counter. Jonas does not stare at the ethereal quality the colored lights cast over the man. Or the way his biceps bulge beneath his t-shirt. Or the way his hair is slightly mussed, falling from where it’d been combed back on top of his head to frame his jaw. His very square jaw--

Mitch’s voice jolts him back into reality with a totally-not-suspicious cough. “Had to search through a few drawers before I found it. Ass thinks he’s so smart, putting it behind crap in that junky ass office.” The man gives Jonas a concerned glance, which makes the cough worse-- thanks for that-- but he waves it off and takes a quick sip of his drink. At least then he could pretend it was the alcohol’s fault….

“Ay, Joey, you okay?” 

The hand that settles in the middle of Jonas’ back warms him much quicker than any liquor. So much so that Jonas’ entire body freezes to focus on that one point of contact. And then it starts rubbing up and down and in soothing circles? Jonas may as well give up trying to hold his blush in check. Just being around Mitch makes his heartbeat go haywire. Apparently.

“‘m fine,” Jonas says on the tail-end of his cough. “Must’ve gone down the wrong pipe. Or something….. Anyway!” He tosses his head over to smile at Mitch, his lips twitching when he sees Mitch’s surprised blink. “Javier said he had to go. So.” He licks his lips. Mitch notices. Jonas notices Mitch noticing. “It’s just us now? I guess?”

A predatory grin spreads across Mitch’s lips, stretching them wide as he leans forward to cage Jonas in with an arm settled atop the bar on either side of him. “Yeah. I guess so. Whatcha wanna do now, Spots?”

It’s not fair. The guy crowds into Jonas’ space, whispers in his ear, and uses that stupid(ly cute) nickname, and suddenly Jonas can’t think properly. He stammers through a response, but even that must be too much for him because Mitch gives him that same confused-concerned look he’d sported when Jonas had been “choking”.

Jonas clears his throat. _Come on, you can do this_ , he tells himself. “I… don’t wanna be here.”

When Mitch’s face falls, he wants to suck the words right back. Or go back in time to keep them from ever hitting the air. The man’s arms sag where they’re pressed around him.

“Oh,” Mitch breathes. “Lemme go find your clone and she’ll--” He starts to lean back, away, and Jonas is simply not having that.

With a strength he hadn’t known himself to have, Jonas latches onto Mitch’s arms, stopping him in his tracks. “No, no, I want to be _here_.” He releases one forearm to gesture between them. “Just not… _here_.” He flicks a hand at the club around them. Mitch’s face is less disheartened, but now he looks a little confused. “It’s, uh, crowded. And loud. Wanna--” He clears his throat and hopes he’s not gripping Mitch too tight. Just say it, he screams at himself. So he gulps, raises his chin and asks, “Wanna go somewhere else?”

*******************************************************

It’s not as hard to find Sidney as he thought it would be.

His sister is out on the dance floor, sandwiched between two girls, who are pressed between two guys. They all sway in some odd dance together, bobbing side to side as they laugh and fall all over each other.

Jonas will never understand the appeal of clubbing.

He pushes past the guys and tugs her away from the girls’ clawing hands. One of them reaches for him, but Sid catches it and gives her a warning look so she backs off with a shrug.

When they lean closer together to hear, Sid asks, “Did you find him?!”

“Yeah!” Jonas hates having to shout over music. “We’re, uh, leaving actually!”

Sid’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. She shakes her hair out of her face and tilts an ear closer to him. “I’m sorry! I thought you said you were leaving!”

He rolls his eyes. “I did! Just letting you know he’ll bring me home later!” He sees her frowning and, before she can respond, he hurries to add, “Don’t look like that! This was your idea!”

His sister opens her mouth to argue but then closes it, like she’s thought better of it. Her eyebrows do that thing they do when her thoughts are having an argument in her head. Finally, she purses her lips and releases a sigh that Jonas can’t hear but can imagine. He’s heard it enough times before. She leans in again. “Just be careful! And let me know if you need me!” She grips his arm. “Okay?!”

Jonas smiles at her. “Okay!” He surges forward to kiss her cheek, pulling back to grin at her shocked expression. “I’ll text you later! Don’t lose Charlotte!”

He leaves then, wading back through the sea of people and waving at her over his shoulder. She returns it distractedly and then shakes her head at Charlotte when the girl sidles up. She looks a little worried, but Jonas isn’t. Not one bit.

*******************************************************

Okay, maybe he is worried a little bit. A tiny bit. He’s about to be alone with Mitch again. Hopefully he doesn’t do anything to embarrass himself. Again. _Although_ , he remembers, _I was completely drunk the first time we met. Can’t get much worse than that, right?_

Outside the club, the music is muted and distant. The lights flooding out from the door are dim compared to the full moon shining up above. The city around them is the furthest thing from asleep and Jonas is a little overwhelmed. But he won’t let himself be talked out of this, not even if it comes from his own head.

Mitch had left to get his car while Jonas talked with Sidney inside so he stands there in a panicky haze, hoping the people passing don’t notice. And when the sleek, old car slides up to the curb, Jonas feels his stomach clench in nerves. What is he going to say? He’s just glad that Mitch wasn’t thrown off by his suggestion earlier. Or that he thought it meant something else entirely….

They ride in silence after Mitch pulls off, letting the strands of guitar coming from the radio fill the car so they don’t have to. Why is this so difficult, Jonas wonders. They’d had no problem talking the last time they were alone together. Why is this any different?

 _Well, you asked him to be alone this time_ , his mind supplies. _You didn’t have to drunkenly stalk him this time_. He pointedly ignores the implications behind that and focuses on the passing scenery out the window.

Mitch stops the car in a gas station parking lot and hops out before Jonas can comment. “Gimme five minutes,” he crows through the open window. Then he lopes to the entrance with long strides, leaving Jonas to watch after him in confusion. He settles in his seat with his phone to wait.

True to his word, the guy is back in a flash, brandishing plastic bags full of… something. Mitch drops them to the floor in the backseat without letting Jonas catch a peek. “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he says gruffly. His lips are pulled into that border-line scary smile Jonas has gotten used to seeing. “You’ll see when we get there.”

Jonas shakes his head with a smirk. “And where exactly is ‘there’?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that neither.” Mitch revs the engine and pulls out of the lot, nearly lifting the car up on two wheels. Jonas’ heart jumps into his throat. He’s not afraid, even though he thinks he should be. Mitch drives kind of crazy, speeding around corners and swerving between lanes. But he slows down a bit when he sees Jonas’ eyes bugging out of his head. And the way he keeps glancing over afterward to check on Jonas is kinda sweet. No matter how sweet it is, though, Jonas still clutches the grab handle above the window and holds on for dear life as he slides this way and that in his seat.

The ride there isn’t very long or scenic. It’s fast-paced and fun, filled with Mitch’s music blasting from the radio’s speakers. Something had shifted when Mitch got back in the car. The silence is no longer stifling or awkward and when Mitch decides to break it, Jonas doesn’t stop him. 

Mitch offers up stories about all the places they pass. Like the time Scratch got them banned from the general store on the left for causing a food fight in one of the aisles. Or the time Cliff got them kicked out of the petting zoo that sets up over there in the spring, mostly because he wanted to free the animals and partly because Javier kept scaring the children. Or the time Mitch got them ejected from a baseball game in that field behind that building. Jonas is learning a lot, and the main thing he’s decided to take from this is that the four of them can’t be trusted by themselves out in public. That and they certainly know how to entertain themselves.

Jonas laughs, loud and free and probably a little dorky, at each and every one of them. Finally he asks, “Where the heck are you taking me? We’ve been driving for a while.” No, they haven’t. The clock tells him that much. He’s just been too absorbed in everything Mitch says to notice how slow time’s been passing. “Should I be worried?”

Mitch gives him a toothy smile. “Worried you’ll have too much fuckin’ fun and not wanna leave? Hell yeah.”

When they get there, the little cove is nothing like what he’d been expecting. It’s beautiful, the water lit by the waning moon above and the reflection of stars sprinkled among the waves. He hadn’t even known they’d been this close to any water; he and Sid mostly stay in the city near their school. Mitch doesn’t even try to stop him when he clambers down the little incline to the bottom.

Jonas throws his shoes to the side as soon as he can and the sand feels like heaven under his toes, cool and soft and grainy. He spins around to proclaim with a grin, “This is awesome!”

But Mitch isn’t looking at the water. Or the rocks lining the shore. His gaze is trained on Jonas and Jonas only. He’s smiling when he mutters, “Sure is.” When he catches Jonas’ eyes, however, he hides his hands in his pockets and looks up at the sky with his lips pursed.

Jonas tries to hide his laugh behind his hand but gives up when he sees the petulant little pout twisting Mitch’s lips. The tall man just sneers at him and leans down to grab a handful of sand. Jonas shuts his mouth immediately.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Mitch flashes a menacing grin right before he starts to chase him. Jonas lets loose a screaming laugh and it trails into the night, mixed with Mitch’s deep cackle as they play around in the sand like children.

*******************************************************

“How’d you find this place?”

Sitting on the rocks dotting the edge of the water and brushing sand out of his hair while he eats chips and candy from the gas station next to a man he’d accidentally stalked home almost two weeks ago had been the absolute last thing Jonas thought he’d be doing tonight. ' _Figured you was gonna be hungry_ ', is what Mitch had said when he'd shoved the food into Jonas' hands. So, no he hadn't been expecting this at all. But here he is, leaning heavily into Mitch as they watch the moon reflect off the water and share a couple snacks. Well, Mitch hasn’t touched any of the food yet, but he’s here and relaxed; that’s all Jonas cares about right now.

Mitch takes a small hit from his blunt and answers on an exhale. “Just drivin’ around one day. Didn’t have nowhere to be and didn’t feel like goin’ home. I parked up there to sit and smoke and then I looked down. Just kinda… seen it.”

“Saw it,” Jonas corrects before he can stop himself. Then he winces. “Shoot, sorry. I’m trying not to-- can’t help it.”

Instead of being pissed at him, as per the normal reaction to Jonas’ offhanded grammar correction, Mitch just laughs and waves his concern off with a flick of his blunt and a shrug. “S’okay, Spots. You don’t mean nothin’ by it.”

They stand in silence for a moment, just watching the waves flow back and forth in gentle laps while they lean against one another in the cool air of a spring evening. Then Mitch murmurs something so low, Jonas almost doesn’t hear it.

“Reminds me of this one near my school back home.” 

Jonas looks up at him, suddenly filled with curiosity. “The cove?” He gets a lazy nod. There’s a pause before Jonas asks, “Where’s that?”

“Hm?” The tall man looks surprised, like he hadn’t expected this to turn into a conversation. 

Jonas decides to press. Just a little bit. He prompts, “Home. Where are you from?” 

There’s a minute twitch that tells Jonas not to push any more than he already has. But Mitch powers through it and answers anyway. “Uh, Sellwood.” 

What? Jonas can’t have heard that right. “California? Really?” At Mitch’s jerky nod, Jonas bites his lip and decides to meet him halfway. “Me, too. Well, Sid and me. We’re from Sellwood.” The scrunched look on Mitch’s face means both of them are probably thinking the same thing: Sellwood isn’t that big. Could they have met before? But instead of dwelling on that, Jonas switches gears and asks a different question. “Why did you leave?”

“Nothin’ but bad memories,” Mitch releases with a stream of smoke. He watches as it floats above them, staring until it dissipates in the breeze. “Wasn’t a reason to stay, far as I’m fuckin’ concerned.”

“Huh.” Jonas swirls the juice in his bottle and tugs a knee up to his chest. “Me, too.”

When Mitch glances down in surprise, Jonas gives him a little smile and raises a bag of chips in question. Mitch looks at him, then the bag, then back at him, mouth screwing into a frown that makes Jonas a little worried. But before Jonas can lower the bag and ask what’s wrong, Mitch shakes his head, lifts his blunt to his lips and wraps an arm around Jonas’ shoulders. The man doesn’t look down again, but he mutters, “Ya looked cold, Spots” when Jonas asks.

Jonas doesn't question it. He just turns to watch the water, scooting a little closer.

They spend the rest of their time talking and goofing off and teasing one another and seeing who can throw rocks the farthest. Mitch wins but he wraps Jonas in a bear hug when he starts shivering, so it’s not a complete loss. They laugh and chase each other and generally makes fools of themselves, but there’s no one there but the two of them. It’s fine. This is fine.

Jonas has to admit that he’s never had this much fun doing pretty much nothing with anyone other than his sister, someone who knows him inside and out. It’s almost overwhelming but when he watches Mitch skip rocks over the water, waving him over to teach him how to do the same, it feels… right, somehow.

*******************************************************

His cheeks are hurting by the time Mitch rolls up to his building. They’d been exchanging stories the entire ride. Well, they had been until Jonas made an off-handed suggestion to visit the cove again. This sparked a whole new conversation about finding other things in the area to do together. Jonas especially liked the suggestion to see the new movie both of them had been dying to see. Mitch hadn’t been very excited about it until Jonas pointed out that he knew a theater nearby that had discount movie nights. That’s where he and Sid frequent when they want to do something fun but can’t spare more than a few bucks. Once Jonas gave him the theater name, Mitch had been even more excited. Jonas likes that look on him.

While the car idles on the curb, Jonas turns to the driver’s seat, smile soft and voice even softer as he addresses his… friend? They have to be friends now and Jonas is happy about that. He is; doesn’t matter why he feels a bit disappointed at the thought. Being friends with Mitch has been the most fun he’s had in a really long time. Even though he hadn’t been sad in the first place. _No matter what Sid says_ , he amends in his head.

But he takes one look at Mitch grinning at him across the console with those little dimples Jonas has noticed only pop out when he’s grinning all big and soft and happy, like he is right now. He looks at Mitch and thinks that maybe, in some way, his sister might’ve been… a little right. A teensy-tiny bit. Not that he’ll ever tell her that, but still.

He decides to take a leap of faith. And if he just ends up falling on his face, well…. He’ll just have to pull himself together over the weekend.

After clearing his throat and patting his warm cheek, Jonas smiles up and says, “Thanks. For all that. I… had a lot of fun.”

Mitch chuckles, leaning back in his seat with a shrug. “Ain’t a problem, Joey. I’m just, uh,” he scratches at his chin. “Glad you liked it.”

 _Do it, Jonas_ , he cries in his head. _Do it now or you’ll have to stalk him around the club again!_ Oh, heck, he has to do this because there is _no way_ he’s going to that club every week, just hoping to catch a glimpse of the tall, muscled bouncer that had pummeled his way into Jonas’ heart--

“Hey, uh, Spots,” Mitch interrupts his inner tirade with a soft call, face scrunched in discomfort. “I, uh-- shit, don’t know how to do this shit. Can I-- I mean, if ya wanna, you can-- Should I--”

“Mitch,” Jonas laughs, pressing a soft hand to his shoulder. The man seizes up for a moment before looking him in the eye. “Calm down. It’s fine. Just… tell me.”

Mitch licks his lips and his hands clench into a fist for a second before releasing. He’s nervous, Jonas notices. “Wanna ask ya somethin’.”

“Go ahead.” Jonas slides his hand to Mitch’s bicep and tries not to let his mind wander when he feels the hard muscle tense.

“Don’t want it to creep ya out.”

Oh. Well, that… hadn’t been what Jonas had expected him to say. He blinks. “Oh. Well. Ask anyway? I guess? I’ll, uh, let you know if-- you know.”

Mitch doesn’t say anything.

“Unless it’s like really inappropriate. But I don’t think you’d say anything like that. Unless it’s around Javier and those guys, because none of you know how to pull your punches around one another. I’ve only know them for a night and I can tell that much. Well, I haven’t known you for that much longer, but I can tell you wouldn’t do anything like that to _me_. So I guess I’m not too worried--”

“Can I get your number?”

Jonas stops talking immediately. His mouth shuts of its own accord. His words have shriveled up and died on his tongue. His brain may have also shut down, he’s no sure. Everything seems to have halted, even the air around them.

Mitch takes his silence as a cue to explain himself. “Aw, shit, Joey. ‘m sorry. I don’t know how to do shit like this without fuckin’ it up. Ain’t never-- you’re prob’ly weirded out. ‘m not tryin’ ta, like, creep on ya or nothin’, I swear! I just like hangin’ out with you and, ya know… wanted to do it again?”

His statement-- more of a question, really-- pitters into silence and then the two of them are left to stare at one another across the dash. It’s crazy how different, yet like-minded they are. Jonas should be weirded out, he thinks. But he’s not. Far from it, actually; he thinks it’s endearing.

God, he’s got it bad.

He sees Mitch’s mouth opening again, probably to give another apology and ask that Jonas forget he ever said anything, which is definitely not happening. Jonas beats him to the punch.

“Gimme your phone.”

Mitch’s teeth clack, he shuts his mouth so quick. Then he stares down at Jonas’ unmoving hand in front of him. Jonas has just hyped himself up enough in his head to reach down and take the thing from Mitch’s pocket (ohmygodohmygodohmygod) when Mitch slides the open phone into his hand quietly.

Jonas doesn’t speak as he quickly enters his information in a contact. Before he hands it back, he thinks about something and figures hey, why not? So he sends himself a text and hands the phone back with a little smile. Mitch is still staring at him like he’s never seen him before.

“Text me when you want to go see that movie, okay?”

There won’t be a better exit line, Jonas thinks, so he quickly opens the door and slides to his feet. Before he lets the door close, though, he leans back down and hopes Mitch can’t see how nervous he is through his smile. “I’ll see you later?”

That seems to be enough to rouse Mitch from his shock, or whatever had him frozen solid like that. He gives Jonas a crooked, wobbly smile in return; it that looks more happy than uncomfortable so Jonas is going to count that as a win. “Yeah. I’ll call ya.”

When Mitch finally pulls off, only after he sees that Jonas is safely inside the door, Jonas slides to the floor and clutches his face into his hands. It’s so warm he could probably fry an egg on it. _Yeah, get the bad jokes out now_ , he thinks miserably. _Before Sid sees you and thinks she’s clever_. God, he hopes she’s asleep or that he can sneak to his room to calm down first.

There’s a buzz in his pocket. Jonas hurries to pull out his phone. There are two new messages, both from the same person. He knows who it is but it still sends butterflies fluttering around in his stomach as Jonas opens the conversation. There’s the text he’d sent to himself and underneath it?

_Gdnit Spots_

Jonas is ashamed to say that he stares and stares at the text for a long time, sitting on the floor in a stupor, before remembering to respond. He sends back: _Please don’t text and drive. Goodnight Mitch_ with a ridiculous amount of emojis for people who have just exchanged numbers (he only puts two but that still seems like too much for his first text).

There’s no response. “Good,” he says and stares at the screen some more. Then he clicks on the number, opening it in his contacts and adding a contact name that makes him grin uncontrollably. He pushes himself off the floor and floats to bed, right passed Sidney’s dark room.

When he wakes up in the morning, it’s with a smile still gracing his lips and a horribly spelled text to respond to. The answer he gets back makes him laugh into his hand to keep from waking his sister.

Hm. He decides he’ll make Sidney some pancakes as a thank you. A very heartfelt thank you.

… Also as an apology because, when she comes barging into his room with her hair flying like a war banner behind her, he realizes that he forgot to text her last night.

“JONAS!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being... a lot longer than I'd originally planned lolz, but I finally got it done. It took forever to edit this and get it the way I wanted. Then I figured hey, what's the worst that can happen? And decided to stop knit-picking and just post it.  
> Lemme know your thoughts! :D


	3. When the heck? part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s all fun and games and flirting until suddenly it isn’t, and Jonas has to come to terms with his feelings.

Jonas has never thought of himself as the romantic type. But now that Mitch has meandered into his life, he’s not so sure anymore.

Everywhere he looks he’s reminded of the man. The rats in one of the science labs? He automatically thinks of Mitch’s pet… whatever that hangs around his apartment building, coming and going through the front door as it pleases. It still freaks Jonas out a bit but the soft look that comes over Mitch’s face makes the ugly, little thing tolerable. Jonas sees somebody wearing a tee with some really stupid graphics and what does he think of? Mitch’s extensive wardrobe of vulgar t-shirts and tattered jeans, each proclaiming something more inappropriate than the last. Unfortunately, they’re growing on Jonas just like the man wearing them so he can’t find it in himself to be affronted anymore. And when he’s lounging at home and comes across some trashy reality show on tv? All Jonas can focus on is the time Mitch told him that he and his mom used to bet on the end of their soaps and the loser had to give the other a specified number of hugs and kisses for a week. It was-- is excruciatingly sweet hearing him talk about his mother. And this association thing _is_ getting a bit ridiculous.

What’s even more ridiculous is that Jonas wouldn’t do a thing to change it.

It’s been a little over a month since they found each other (i.e., were thrown together by a spontaneously crafted plan created by his sister and Mitch’s best friend) and, since that first night at the cove, they haven’t separated since. Well, not for long; it’s never for more than a few days at a time and those days are always sprinkled with a healthy stream of texts back and forth all day and night. Jonas has even gotten used to Mitch’s horrible text spelling and doesn’t have to ask him to elaborate every few texts now. He can usually guess what the man means to say.

Mitch became a permanent fixture at the Wagners twins’ apartment after his first visit. After class and a quick shift at work, Jonas had asked if Mitch wanted to come over on a day that the man didn’t have to work at the club; Sidney was going out shopping with her friends searching for an outfit for graduation and Jonas did not want to be in the middle of that all day. Mitch had immediately jumped at the chance, so they’d plopped down on the couch to hurl insults at each other during _Mario Kart_. After, of course, Mitch had cajoled Jonas into giving him a tour of the small apartment. He’d flung himself into Jonas’ bed as soon as they’d crossed the threshold and wiggled his thick eyebrows in a way that made Jonas laugh even as his face caught fire.

Jonas doesn’t remember what they’d said, but he knows they’d been throwing sass back and forth across the carpet until Mitch had lumbered to his feet and chased poor Jonas around his own bedroom. Of course Mitch had caught him, grabbing Jonas around the middle and hauling the giggling man to his chest. Then he’d started _tickling him_ like the too-observant jerk Jonas knows him to be. When had he figured out Jonas was ticklish? Hadn’t mattered then; Jonas had squirmed and flailed trying to break the hold while his breath left in loud laughter and his heart beat loud in his ears beside the other man’s deep chuckling. Finally, he’d managed to turn in Mitch’s arms, coming face to face with his tickling tormentor, and everything had stopped. 

They were so close he could feel every one of Mitch’s breathy chuckles on his cheeks and he was sure Mitch could feel his heart through the grip around him. They’d frozen like that, staring at one another and wondering how to proceed, until panic had taken Jonas over for a swift moment. He’d shoved Mitch back-- probably with a little too much force-- and hesitated before grabbing a pillow and launching an assault of his own. Which is how they’d ended up having an intense pillow fight like children, crumpling Jonas’ bed and leaving pillows strewn across the floor. It was great. They’d collapsed in a breathless heap on the carpeted floor soon after, leaning against one another and panting before Jonas had offered to get water from the kitchen. They’d relocated to the living room for video games and silently agreed not to discuss what had just happened.

Ever since that day, Mitch has taken it upon himself to come over when he knows Jonas can’t leave the house. He quietly lounges on the bed while Jonas does his assignments, not even complaining about some of the more obscure music that floods through the speakers. He and Sidney have even come to a cordial point in their not-relationship, for which Jonas is extremely grateful. They still gripe at one another on sight, but Mitch has expressed that she “can’t be that damn bad if she’s lookin’ after yer cute ass all the time”. And Sidney’d given Mitch a long look before he’d left one day, commenting after he was gone that “you sure know to pick ‘em, Jojo, but he’s not nearly as creepy as I thought he was, so it’s whatever”. Jonas will take what he can get from those two.

Although it’s always been obvious that Mitch isn’t as bad as his sister would like to believe, he’s definitely learning more and more about the man. Thankfully, this getting-to-know-his-crush thing isn’t nearly as hard as Jonas thought it would be.

They’ve found out things about one another that no one else knows. Like how Mitch loves _The Bachelor_ specifically because that’s what he’d watched with his mom when he was younger. They’d been hanging out at Mitch’s apartment looking for something to watch and Jonas had noticed how Mitch lingered over the channel. He’d casually commented on how he hadn’t seen the show in so long, why don’t they watch that? Mitch had tried to appear unaffected but his intense focus on the screen had made Jonas happy. And while Mitch already knew that Jonas is a videogame buff, he now knows that arcades are where Jonas really shines. They’d happened to be passing the one in town and, despite Jonas’ best efforts to keep his excitement under wraps, Mitch had noticed and suggested they go in for a bit. Their visit had lasted a little over two hours and neither of them regretted it even after their obvious lack of funds and sleep the next day. Totally worth it. Oh, and Mitch likes _Star Wars_ , which is something Jonas could never have imagined.

They also know the not-so-good stuff. Mitch knows that Jonas doesn’t swear, has _never_ sworn because he was so afraid of Dean growing up. Mitch flippant offer to beat him up makes Jonas laugh, even though he’s not sure whether or not Mitch was joking. And Jonas knows that Mitch doesn’t sleep very long at night. He says he has “fucked up nightmares” but refuses to say anything else and Jonas will never pressure him into elaborating.

All in all, they’ve gotten extremely comfortable with one another and Jonas thinks there can’t be much more to know that they haven’t already shared. But there are still things Jonas hasn’t been told and that’s okay. Mitch is his own man and Jonas won’t press, just like he knows Mitch won’t pressure him about things he’d rather keep private. It’s a fine system. A great one, actually.

But there’s one thing that Jonas just can’t ignore and it presents itself when both of them least expect it.

******

It’s an unassuming Thursday, so close to the weekend that nobody-- not even the teachers-- actually wants to be in class. Jonas has been listening to his instructors drone on for the better of an hour about a subject that has no relevance to their current lesson, so he’s taken the opportunity to text Mitch. Ask if he was still cool with hanging out later this evening. Not that Jonas was desperate to see him (even though he was), because they’d just hung out a couple days ago and texted non-stop (still isn’t enough apparently; Jonas is weak and he knows it but will _never_ admit it).

And receives no response.

Normally, Jonas would shrug and assign the blame to him napping after a long night of work at the club, or being busy under the hood of a car at the garage. But he’s become acutely aware (maybe a bit too much) of Mitch’s work schedule, considering they meet up nearly every two days. He knows that Mitch had a short shift at the club last night and was home by ten. And this early in the afternoon there usually weren’t many jobs in the shop so Mitch always deemed it a good time to take his break. There’s nothing wrong with deviating from one’s routine, Jonas knows, but he also knows Mitch and the trouble he can get himself into. He can’t help that worry blooms in the back of his mind.

On his way out of his last class for the day, he frowns over his quiet phone. “He’s just… taking a nap. Yeah, nothing to freak out over,” he tries to reassure himself under his breath. It works just about as well as he’d thought it would, which is not at all.

His attention is so caught on his phone that he doesn’t see the body that sidles up to him until a hand reaches out to tap his shoulder, nearly startling the thing out of his hand.

“Gah!”

Dylan raises his hands in shock and steps back a few paces. “Sorry! Sorry. I just.” He chuckles awkwardly. “Just wanted to say hi.”

“Oh.” Jonas blows out a short breath. “Yeah, no, hi. I was just--”

There’s a buzz on his phone that draws his focus immediately, but Lewis’ roommate doesn’t seem to notice. He just keeps talking, staring at his clammy hands before rubbing them on his thighs. “Actually I wanted to, uh, ask you something.”

“Uh huh.” Jonas isn’t paying attention. He’s just entered his passcode and navigated to his messages. Mitch’s response, two texts, sits there waiting for him and his worry flies away. He opens the message with a smile but it’s extremely short-lived.

_not feln gud_

_nxt tim 4 sur_

Jonas frowns.

Dylan is still speaking. “You know, last time you came over with Lewis and we had that game tournament? It was awesome and you totally kicked everybody’s butt. Well, not your sister’s ‘cause she’s a beast but, like, everybody else was totally eating your dust. It was awesome.”

Jonas hums distractedly. “Cool.” He quickly types out a response. _What’s wrong?_

This time the response comes fast, almost instantly.

_Head_

_Dnt got meds_

_Cantwrit the dam ttxtcombbrickuse fix_

The rapid texts end there and, at the sight of the last, confusing one, Jonas’ concern shifts into overdrive.

“But Lewis is at a study group tonight and I wanted to play this game. Do you think you’d wanna come over--”

“Dylan, hey,” he interrupts while hastily shoving his backpack properly onto his shoulders. He hadn’t heard a word the guy had said anyway. “Something just came up, so I’m going to have to jet. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Tell Lewis I’ll catch him tomorrow!”

Dylan may or may not have been trying to call after him, Jonas isn’t sure because he’s made a beeline for the nearest exit and headed for the parking lot, his phone held tightly in his grip. He’d already dialed Mitch’s number and the ringing seems to drone on forever and ever as he paces to the end of the drive in front of the building.

When the line finally clicks, Jonas lets loose the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding and says with urgency, “Mitch?”

A quiet grunt in the only response for a moment, and then Mitch says, “Yeah. Sorry, head was hurtin’, had to….” He groans like he’s in pain. “Uh, put the phone down. Musta pushed somethin’ and sent that shit by, _fuck_ … accident.”

Oh, no. “Are you--” He stops himself because of course he isn’t okay. It sounds bad. _Mitch_ sounds bad. His voice is haggard and it sounds like it pains him to get any words out. Jonas isn’t about to let that stand.

It’s Thursday afternoon, he mentally catalogs and runs through his work schedule for the week. He can… move his hours to the weekend and then study some more later tonight to make up for-- yeah, he can do that. Into the phone, he says, “I’ll be there soon,” already shuffling down the street with a determined stride.

“What? Joey, you don’t gotta--”

“I’m headed your way,” he repeats over whatever protest Mitch is trying to give him. It doesn’t have a hope of working anyway. “Twenty minutes, tops. If the bus acts right….” He hears Mitch take a breath to respond and beats him to it. “Oh, there it is now. Gotta go. I’ll see you in a few.” Then he hangs up and jogs to catch the bus that’s just pulled up.

By the time he hops off the bus steps down the street from Mitch’s apartment, it’s a little after one and the sun is bearing down on him. Usually it isn’t that hot in Cali but today, for some reason, Jonas feels the heat is trying to make itself known. He almost regrets his decision to leave the car with Sidney, who still has to get to work, but he’d much rather take the bus to Mitch’s house than have his sister hot on her commute to and from work. But even such a short walk is a little tiring. When the building comes into view, however, he feels himself speeding up even with the sun conspiring against him.

Jonas doesn’t think he can be blamed for worrying; he hasn’t heard Mitch sound so… tired before. Not even when the man pulled all-nighters going from one job to the other, which happens more often than Jonas thinks is healthy. He does a slow jog up the stairs and, after taking a moment to draw a few deep breaths and try to calm his racing heartbeat, pulls out his phone.

_I’m here. Open the door._

There’s no response for a moment and no noise from behind the door. Jonas frowns and gives a little knock. “Mitch,” he calls tentatively but hopefully loud enough to be heard. “You there?”

A few more beats, with the humid air clouding around him, and Jonas’ worry increases. He’s just lifted his hand to call Mitch’s phone when it buzzes in his hand with a text notification.

_Whtr u doin her_

_im sck_

_not gna get u 2_

Jonas huffs and presses the dial button with a little more force than is strictly necessary.

When Mitch picks up, his voice is just as tired as it had been earlier but with a pained edge to it. Jonas is immediately concerned. “Joey, go home. ‘m fine, just a little cold ‘s all. Don’t, ow, don’t need ya gettin’... _this_ too. Whatever it is.” He heaves a little sigh that breaks Jonas’ heart.

“No.” He shakes his head even though he knows Mitch can’t see him. “Open this door right now before I have the landlord do it for you.”

Silence filters between them for a moment, Jonas only seconds away from marching back down the stairs to demand the building’s master key. But Mitch heaves a sigh before Jonas can fully commit to the idea, and the sound of him rising from the bed comes through the phone. To Jonas, it sounds like that takes more effort than it should and that increases his worry tenfold.

“Awright, damn, here I come. Just-- fuckin’ _fuck_ \-- uh, just hold on a sec.”

The click of the lock surprises Jonas and, after he pushes his way inside, the sight of Mitch is even more shocking. The bags under his eyes are more pronounced than ever and his eyes are set in this vacant gaze that instantly sets Jonas on edge. He’s shivering despite the temperature outside and… has the man always been this pale?

Mitch smiles at him like nothing is wrong. Well, as much as he can while looking as if he’ll pass out at any moment. “Hey, Spots.”

Jonas scoffs. “Don’t you ‘hey, Spots’ me!” Ignoring the stunned look on Mitch’s face, Jonas starts herding him into the living room. “Sit down. Don’t move.” The blanket that’s usually thrown over the back of the couch is carefully tucked over a pliant, non-complaining Mitch, which means he must be feeling worse than he looks. And he looks pretty bad. Jonas puts a gentle hand to his forehead. “You’re not warm so no fever.”

Mitch closes his eyes and heaves a heavy breath, leaning into the touch just enough for Jonas to notice. Jonas pulls his hand back cups his cheek in a gentle hold and Mitch sighs before pressing into that, too. “Head’s just hurtin’ a bit. No big deal. Just, uh, kinda really tired.”

“Did you call off work at the garage already?” Jonas slides onto the couch next to him and starts rooting around in his backpack. He’d stopped by the store on the way here and grabbed what he thought Mitch would need. Just some cold medicine and some cold presses. Now he’s not so sure if any of this will help….

“Yeah.” His response trails into a violent yawn that makes his face scrunch up in pain, but he continues anyway. “An’ club boss man sent me home last night cuz he’s a little bitch. Ain’t gotta worry ‘bout that one.”

Jonas pauses where he’s pulling a water bottle from his bag. Now he’s contemplating calling Javier to have him deal with the club’s manager. “What?”

The couch dips a bit as Mitch shifts to get more comfortable, leaning his head back against the back of the couch. “Told me to scram. Said I was bein’ a dick. And, uh, irri--somethin’.”

“Irri-something?” What is he-- oh. “What did he… Did he call you _irritable_?” Oh boy…. So that’s why he’d been home so early last night. But he hadn’t mentioned anything….

“Yeah, that.” Mitch can’t even lift his hand all the way up, his headache keeps his brow drawn and his lips curled in a hefty frown. “ _God_ , my head’s killin’ me.”

Jonas slides a little closer but not too close; he doesn’t want to make Mitch more uncomfortable. Who knows? Maybe Mitch is one of those people that doesn’t like to cuddle when they’re sick. And he was probably sent home from work for snapping at and/or threatening his co-workers. Jonas doesn’t want to unintentionally fuel his ire. “Have you gotten any sleep?”

“Tried. Didn’t work. Just hurts.”

“Okay,” Jonas rubs his palms on his jean-covered thighs and levers himself to his feet. “Drink this,” he places the water bottle in his lap and steps away. “And I brought some stuff that might help--”

Something makes him pause mid-sentence; he’s not sure what exactly, an errant thought? Intuition, maybe? Whatever it is stills his tongue and leads him into the little kitchenette. He’s just stepped over the threshold when he notices all of the beer bottles lying around. On the ground, on the counter, near the washing machine. Gosh, Mitch has got to do better. He’s just about to convince himself to clean the kitchen because _Mitch is sick and I should do something to take the load off him_ when that same… something nags at him again. It makes him check the trash can under the sink.

Nothing but more bottles. No wrappers or containers or anything. And in the refrigerator? More beer, some milk and an mostly full bag of pretzels. That seems to be all the food there is, aside from the box of pancake mix and nearly empty cereal containers in one of the cabinets.

Jonas’ mind starts running a mile a minute with possible reasons, anything other than what he’s already thinking. The thought’s been sitting at the back of his mind since that first night at the cove, he just hadn’t thought it could be true. Why hadn’t he been paying closer attention? He should’ve…. Well, he’s not sure what he should’ve done, but he should’ve done _something_.

Hesitantly, Jonas steps out of the kitchen, wringing his hands. “Hey, Mitch. When, uh….”

“Hm?” Mitch rolls his head carefully across the back of the couch until he can see Jonas.

Jonas creeps closer, not entirely sure how to approach this. _Just… ask him_ , he tells himself. He takes a shaky, deep breath and carefully lowers himself into the seat next to the man. “When was the last time you ate something?”

It’s obvious the questions rattles Mitch; his tired eyes go wide and he turns so fast he hisses when his headache spikes. “I, uh, shit, I don’t know. Yesterday? Before that? Hell, I don’t know.”

Jonas bounces his head in a little nod and continues. “I think that’s why you’re not feeling well.”

The man grunts, trying to subtly shift away from Jonas on the couch, brow drawn in a tight frown as he mutters a dejected, “Sorry….”

“It’s not,” Jonas starts and stops. Tries to find the right way to say this. He lays a calm hand on the man’s arm and keeps going as softly as he can. “I’m not upset. Well, I kinda am.” When Mitch bites his lip, he hurries to add, “But only because I don’t like seeing you like this! You know, hurting and stuff. It’s none of my business why you don’t want to eat, but I can’t--” He takes a deep breath. “I just want you to take care of yourself.”

Mitch doesn’t respond. He ducks his head to stare at the hand on him and blinks really hard.

“Why... do you care so much?”

The whispered question sends a rush of emotion through him and he’s certain it all plays out on his face. Disbelief. Affront. A rage Jonas hadn’t known he was capable of. He glares over, made easier by how far Mitch has slouched down on the couch. “ _Why do I_ \-- Look,” he huffs out, pinching two fingers to the bridge of his nose and counting backwards from ten. Then he continues as soft as he can manage. “You can be a butt to everybody else, but not me. You’re my friend and I wanna take care of you, okay?”

“Haha, you said butt.” Jonas looks up to gripe at him but Mitch’s gaze is soft, trained on the hand still clutching his arm. It hasn’t moved through Jonas’ entire tirade. Mitch’s laughter pitters into a huffy breath and ends with a little smile curving his lip, and Jonas feels his ire slipping immediately.

“You are a literal child,” he says without any heat behind it. It sounds more fond than anything else. He squeezes Mitch’s arm until the man locks eyes with him. “But I do care. A lot. ‘Cause you’re important to me. Like, really important. Okay?”

Mitch takes a deep breath and doesn’t respond for a moment, but he eventually gives a wobbly smile in return. “Okay.”

Jonas stays there for the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening, coaxing Mitch into sharing some of the pretzels from the fridge with him and lounging on the couch pressed against each other. After about two _Master Chef_ reruns and a good couple handfuls of pretzels, Mitch falls into a deep doze, leaning heavily onto Jonas with his cheek smooshed atop Jonas’ hair and his arm lying across Jonas’ lap.

When he finally nods off, Jonas just smiles and lets him sleep. And if he reaches down to hold Mitch’s hand and stroke a soft thumb over the pale skin of his wrist, nobody’s around to question him.

 _Why do I care so much_? The question bounces around in his head, but he doesn’t think it’s the right time to answer that. Not just yet.

*****

Life goes on as normal after that. Mitch still doesn’t eat much, but he lets Jonas persuade him to snack more often when they’re together. Especially if they get to share something, which never fails to hold Mitch’s interest and make Jonas smile. A few days later, Mitch asks how he knew and Jonas tells him he’d never seen the man eat anything. Ever. Mitch nods and that’s that. They don’t talk about it again, but Jonas can tell Mitch is trying. In return, he does his best to be as supportive as he can and let Mitch see how proud he is of him, with lots of smiles and shoulder touches. Well, he’d have given him those regardless but Mitch doesn’t need to know that right now….

They still hang out like the co-dependent people they’ve become and neither of them see any problem with that. Their friends mention it every once and awhile, but even they’re getting used to it.

And you know, everything is good in life, Jonas decides. It’s almost perfect.

Until he gets reminded about some things and all that anxiety that Mitch’s presence has been blocking comes crashing down on top of him.

It starts when his sister comes home from work a little later than usual, clutching a few plastic bags from the craft store with an excited tilt to her grin.

From his seat at the table, he can’t help but return it. “What’s all that?”

“You’ll see ‘cause you’re gonna help me!” She speeds past him into her room and he shrugs, returning back to his work. It only takes a few moments for her to return, sans her work uniform and carrying the graduation cap she’s had hanging off her closet door for weeks now. 

She slides the cap onto the table and dumps the plastic bags’ contents out next to it. There’s colored tape and graphic stickers and shiny paper and the like. “You, my wonderfully artsy brother, are going to help me decorate my cap. Aren’t you excited?!”

Uh. Jonas blinks down at the suddenly-covered table. “Uh. Sid--”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she continues. “I already have a few ideas picked out. And I might just mix ‘em all together. Who knows. Depends on what looks best. And most hard-core. I mean, most of the nursing students’ caps are gonna look boring, all covered in red crosses and cartoon syringes and crap. I need mine to be cool, ya know? Like the rockstar of all nursing caps to ever be worn at a graduation, _ever_. So, like--”

She goes on and on and Jonas can only sit there, stunned, throughout her rambling. What is he supposed to do? He wants to help-- of course, he does! They can make a night of it, tossing ideas and strategies between them with their crazy mix of music playing in the background. It’ll be fun, he’s certain. But….

He can’t take that right now. And when she asks his opinion (“What would you put on yours? A bunch of baby sea animals? I know you’re weak to cute stuff, Jojo, don’t deny it.”), he decides to forgo any subtle method of bowing out. Time to straight up bail.

“You know,” he interrupts quickly, staring down at the supplies covering his textbook and notes. “I don’t think I can help you.”

Even though he makes sure to keep his head down, he still catches Sidney’s face falling from the corner of his eye and feels like crap.

She gives a little “oh”, glancing down at the colorful paper spilling from one of the bags. “Why not?”

“Uh, not tonight, at least,” he hurries to correct himself. He’ll definitely help just-- not right now. “I have, um, a lot of work to do for this final in a few days.” No lie there. “And I was being too lazy yesterday, didn’t study like I should have.” That’s partly true. He’d gotten lazy enough to take a short break but right before he could get back in the groove, Mitch had called and distracted him. Studying had been the last thing on his mind after that. “So. Gotta get caught up. Um.” He’s already shoving his materials back into his backpack, sliding pens into his case and zipping it shut. “But I can definitely help this weekend! Don’t worry about it!”

“Hey, where are you going?” Her hands are on her hips. Never a good sign.

“Library,” he lies without missing a beat. His bag is already over his shoulder and his shoes are still by the door. Good, now all has to do is make a break for it. “Forgot to print something for tomorrow.”

His twin’s eyes narrow dangerously. “This late?”

“Yeah, the old one in town doesn’t close until eleven.” He shoves his feet into his feet as he says, “Uh, you should go ahead and get a plan together, okay? Oh! Call Charlotte, she’s sure to have some decent ideas. Maybe.” He’s not sure how helpful the perky blonde will be. Sidney’s and her styles don’t exactly match up. Oh, well. Not a problem for him to worry about right now. “Gotta go!”

He pulls the door closed behind him and stands out on the landing, feeling like a butt and completely unsure of what to do next.

His saving grace comes in the form of a simple text.

_wyd_

Jonas doesn’t know whether to burst into tears or hysterical laughter. It’s like Mitch can just tell he’s distressed.

_Nothing but I need to do something. Can we meet somewhere?_

_What about the cove?_

He gets an immediate affirmative, which he’d been expecting. Neither of them has ever turned down the cove as a suggested hang out spot and they likely never will. There’s a follow-up text asking if Jonas wants to be picked up. The thought is nice, but Jonas ultimately decides against it.

 _No, I’d rather walk._ Might help clear his head.

_See you in a bit._

He pulls his hood up over his head and heads down the stairs, staring up at the clear night sky even as his heavy thoughts cloud his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I just incorporating a bunch of pieces from the comic into this story? You bet I am. Ain't no shame in it. I just love the cove and the swimming scene so much. It's ridiculous. But not as much as the amount of time it took me to write this. 
> 
> I'm going out of town for the week and won't have access to the internet, so I wanted to get the first part of this chapter out before I leave. Sorry it's so short. The second part will hopefully be up a lot quicker than this one.
> 
> As you can see, I tried my hand at addressing Mitch's eating disorder. Stuck with some other noticeable symptoms cuz I couldn't figure out how to have Jonas hearing him in the bathroom. Didn't want to do too much and completely botch it. But, man, those tension headaches (or hunger migraines, that seems to convey how bad they are). Those things are real and hurt like a bitch. Speaking from personal experience.
> 
> Hope this turned out okay. Constructive criticism is extremely welcome here, lol, so let her rip! And thanks for sticking with me this far!


End file.
